• 


^  •-' 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 


BEQUEST  OF 


Alice  R.  Hilgard 


m 


rr 


// 


SIR    JOSEPH     PORTER,    K.C.B. 

I  am  the  monarch  of  the  Sea, 
The  ruler  of  the  (Queen's  Navee,  — 
When  at  anchor  here  I  ride, 
My  bosom  swells  with  pride, 
Ind  I  snap  my  fingers  at  a  foeman's  tai 


COUSIN    HEBE. 

And  so  do  his  sisters,  and  his  cousins,  and  liis  aunts 

His  sisters  and  his  cousins  : 

Whom  he  reckon*  by  the  dozens, 
And  his  aunts  ! 


RALPH    RACKSTRAW. 

"  I  am  the  lowliest  tar 
That  sails  the  water, 

And  you,  proud  mniden.  are 
My  captain's  daughter." 


JOSEPHINE. 

"  Refrain,  audacious  tar. 

Your  suit  from  pressing  ; 
Remember  what  you  are, 

And  whom  addressing." 


LITTLE    BUTTERCUP. 


For  I  am  called  Little  Buttercup,  —  dear  Little  Buttercup, 

Though  I  never  could  tell  why  ; 
But  still  I'm  called  Buttercup,  —  poor  Little  Buttercup, 

Sweet  Little  Buttercup  1! 


CAPTAIN     CORCORAN. 

Fair  moon,  to  thee  I  sing 
Bright  regent  of  the  heavens ; 

Say,  why  is  every  thing 
Lither  at  sixes  or  at  sevens  ! 


BTLL    BOBSTAY,     THE 


He  is  an  Englishman  : 

For  he  himself  has  said  it, 
And  it's  greatly  to  his  credit 

That  he  is  an  Englishman. 


DICK     DEADEYE. 

1  I'm  ugly  too,  aint  I  ?" 


AUNT   JO'S    SCKAP-BAG. 


JIMMY'S    CRUISE    IN    THE    PINAFORE, 
ETC. 


V 


BY    LOUISA    M.    ALCOTT, 

AUTHOR  OF  "LITTLE  WOMEN,;,'  "AN  OLD-FASHIONED  GIRL,"  "LITTLE  MEN,1 
"HOSPITAL  SKETCHES." 


BOSTON: 
EGBERTS    BROTHERS. 

1880. 


Copyright, 
BY  LOUISA  M.  ALCOTT. 

1879. 


GIFT 


UNIVERSITY  PRESS: 
JOHN  WILSON  AND  SON,  CAMBRIDGE. 


v& 

CONTENTS. 


I.  JIMMY'S  CRUISE  IN  THE  PINAFORE  ...  5 

II.  Two  LITTLE  TRAVELLERS   ......  27 

III.  A  JOLLY  FOURTH 38 

IV.  SEVEN  BLACK  CATS 52 

'     V.  ROSA'S  TALE 67 

VI.  LUNCH 89 

VII.  A  BRIGHT  IDEA 105 

VIII.  How  THEY  CAMPED  OUT 119 

IX.  MY  LITTLE  SCHOOL-GIRL     .     .     .     .     •     •"  141 

X.  WHAT  A  SHOVEL  DID     .     ... ^  ...  154 

XI.  CLAMS 168 

XII.  KITTY'S  CATTLE  SHOW I82 

XIII.  WHAT  BECOMES  OF  THE  PINS      ....  189 


M8581C1 


TOM    TUCKER,     MIDSH1PM1TI 


AUNT   JO'S   SCRAP-BAG. 


I. 

JIMMY'S    CRUISE    IN   THE    PINAFORE. 

HOW    HE     SHIPPED. 

A  BOY  sat  on  a  door-step  in  a  despondent  atti- 
tude,  with  his  eyes  fixed  on  a  pair  of  very- 
shabby  shoes,  and  his  elbows  resting  on  his  knees,  as 
if  to  hide  the  big  patches  there.  But  it  was  not  the 
fact  that  his  toes  were  nearly  out  and  his  clothes 
dilapidated  which  brought  the  wrinkles  to  his  fore 
head  and  the  tears  to  his  eyes,  for  he  was  used  to 
that  state  of  things,  and, bore  it  without  complaint. 
The  prospect  was  a  dull  one  for  a  lively  lad  full 
of  the  spring  longings  which  sunny  April  weather 
always  brings.  But  it  was  not  the  narrow  back- 
street  where  noisy  children  played  and  two  or 
three  dusty  trees  tried  to  bud  without  sunshine, 
that  made  him  look  so  dismal.  Nor  was  it  the 


6  AUNT  JO  S  SCRAP-BAG. 

knowledge  that  a  pile  of  vests  was  nearly  ready 
for  him  to  trudge  away  with  before  he  could  really 
rest  after  doing  many  errands  to  save  mother's 
weary  feet. 

No,  it  was  a  burden  that  lay  very  heavily  on  his 
heart,  and  made  it  impossible  to  even  whistle  as  ho 
waited.  Above  the  sounds  that  filled  the  street  he 
heard  a  patient  moan  from  the  room  within ;  and 
no  matter  what  object  his  eyes  rested  on,  he  saw 
with  sorrowful  distinctness  a  small  white  face 
turned  wistfully  toward  the  window,  as  if  weary 
of  the  pillow  where  it  had  laid  so  long. 

Merry  little  Kitty,  who  used  to  sing  and  dance 
from  morning  till  night,  was  now  so  feeble  and 
wasted  that  he  could  carry  her  about  like  a  baby. 
All  day  she  lay  moaning  softly,  and  her  one  com 
fort  was  when  "brother"  could  come  and  sing  to 
her.  That  night  he  could  not  sing ;  his  heart  was 
so  full,  because  the  doctor  had  said  that  the  poor 
child  must  have  country  air  as  soon  as  possible, 
else  she  never  would  recover  from  the  fever  which 
left  her  such  a  sad  little  ghost  of  her  former  self. 
But,  alas,  there  was  no  money  for  the  trip,  and 


JIMMY'S  CRUISE  IN   THE  PINAFORE.      7 

mother  was  sewing  day  and  night  to  earn  enough 
for  a  week  at  least  of  blessed  country  air  and 
quiet.  Jimmy  did  his  best  to  help,  but  could  find 
very  little  to  do,  and  the  pennies  came  in  so  slowly 
he  was  almost  in  despair. 

There  was  no  father  to  lend  a  strong  hand,  and 
Mrs.  Nelson  was  one  of  the  "  silent  poor,"  who  can 
not  ask  for  charity,  no  matter  how  much  they  may 
need  it.  The  twelve-year-old  boy  considered  him 
self  the  man  of  the  family,  and  manfully  carried 
as  many  burdens  as  his  young  shoulders  would 
bear ;  but  this  was  a  very  heavy  one,  so  it  is  no 
wonder  that  he  looked  sober.  Holding  his  curly 
head  in  his  hands,  as  if  to  keep  it  from  flying 
asunder  with  the  various  plans  working  inside, 
he  sat  staring  at  the  dusty  bricks  in  a  desperate 
frame  of  mind. 

Warm  days  were  coming,  and  every  hour  was 
precious,  for  poor  Kitty  pined  in  the  close  room, 
and  all  he  could  do  was  to  bring  her  dandelions 
and  bits  of  green  grass  from  the  Common  when 
she  begged  to  go  in  the  fields  and  pick  "  pretties  " 
for  herself.  He  loved  the  little  sister  dearly,  and, 


8  AUNT  JO'S  SCRAP-BAG. 

as  he  remembered  her  longing,  his  eyes  filled,  and 
he  doubled  up  both  fists  with  an  air  of  determina 
tion,  muttering  to  himself,  — 

"  She  shall  go  !  I  don't  see  any  other  way,  and 
I  '11  do  it !  " 

.  The  plan  which  had  been  uppermost  lately  was 
this.  His  father  had  been  a  sailor,  and  Jimmy  pro 
posed  to  run  away  to  sea  as  cabin  boy.  His  wages 
were  to  be  paid  before  he  went,  so  mother  and 
Kitty  could  be  in  the  country  while  he  was  gone, 
and  in  a  few  months  he  would  come  sailing  gayly 
home  to  find  the  child  her  rosy  self  again.  A  very 
boyish  and  impossible  plan,  but  he  meant  it,  and 
was  in  just  the  mood  to  carry  it  out,  —  for  every 
other  attempt  to  make'  money  had  failed. 

"  I  '11  do  it  as  sure  as  my  name  is  Jim  Nelson. 
I'll  take  a  look  at  the  ships  this  very  night,  and 
go  in  the  first  one  that  will  have  me,"  he  said,  with 
a  resolute  nod  of  the  head,  though  his  heart  sank 
within  him  at  the  thought.  "I  wonder  which 
kind  of  captains  pay  boys  best?  I  guess  I'll  try 
a  steamer ;  they  make  short  trips.  I  heard  the 
cannon  to-day,  so  one  is  in,  and  1 11  try  for  a  place 
before  I  go  to  bed." 


JIMMY*  &    CRUISE  IN  THE  PINAFORE.      9 

Little  did  desperate  Jimmy  guess  what  ship  he 
would  really  sail  in,  nor  what  a  prosperous  voyage 
he  was  about  to  make;  for  help  was  coming  that 
very  minute,  as  it  generally  does,  sooner  or  later, 
tc  generous  people  who  are  very  much  in  earnest. 

First  a  shrill  whistle  was  heard,  at  the  sound  of 
which  he  looked  up  quickly ;  then  a  rosy-faced  girl 
of  about  his  own  age  came  skipping  down  tjie  street, 
swinging  her  hat  by  one  string;  and,  as  Jimmy 
watched  her  approach,  a  smile  began  to  soften  the 
grim  look  he  wore,  for  Willy  Bryant  was  his  best 
friend  and  neighbor,  being  full  of  courage,  fun,  and 
kindness.  He  nodded,  and  made  room  for  her  on 
the  step,  —  the  place  she  usually  occupied  at  spare 
moments  when  they  got  lessons  and  recounted  their 
scrapes  to  each  other. 

But  to-night  Willy  seemed  possessed  of  some 
unusually  good  piece  of  news  which  she  chose  to  tell 
in  her  own  lively  fashion,  for,  instead  of  sitting 
down,  she  began  to  dance  a  sailor's  hornpipe,  sing 
ing  gayly,  "  I  'm  little  Buttercup,  sweet  little  Butter 
cup,"  till  her  breath  gave  out. 

"  What  makes  you  so  jolly,  Will?  "  asked  Jimmy, 


10  AUNT  JO'S   SCRAP-BAG. 

as  she  dropped  down  beside  him  and  fanned  herself 
with  the  ill-used  hat. 

"Such  fun  —  you'll  never  guess  —  just  what  we 
wanted — if  your  mother  only  will!  You'll  dance, 
too,  when  you  know,"  panted  the  girl,  smiling  like  a 
substantial  sort  of  fairy  come  to  bring  good  luck. 

"  Fire  away,  then.  It  will  have  to  be  extra  nice 
to  set  me  off.  I  don't  feel  a  bit  like  jigs  now," 
answered  Jimmy,  as  the  gloom  obscured  his  face 
again,  like  a  cloud  over  the  sun. 

"  You  know  «  Pinafore '  ?  "  began  Will,  and  get 
ting  a  quick  nod  for  an  answer,  she  poured  forth  the 
following  tale  with  great  rapidity:  "Well,  some 
folks  are  going  to  get  it  up  with  children  to  do  it, 
and  they  want  any  boys  and  girls  that  can  sing  to 
go  and  be  looked  at  to-morrow,  and  the  good  ones 
will  be  picked  out,  and  dressed  up,  and  taught  how 
to  act,  and  have  the  nicest  time  that  ever  was. 
Some  of  our  girls  are  going,  and  so  am  I,  and  you 
sing  and  must  come,  too,  and  have  some  fun. 
Won't  it  be  jolly?" 

"  I  guess  it  would ;  but  I  can't.  Mother  needs  me 
every  minute  out  of  school,"  began  Jimmy,  with  a 


JIMMY'S  CRUISE  IN  THE  PINAFORE.     11 

shake  of  the  head,  having  made  up  his  mind  some 
time  ago  that  he  must  learn  to  do  without  fun. 

"But  we  shall  be  paid  for  it,"  cried  Will,  clap 
ping  her  hands  with  the  double  delight  of  telling 
the  best  part  of  her  story,  and  seeing  Jimmy's 
sober  face  clear  suddenly  as  if  the  sun  had  burst 
forth  with  great  brilliancy. 

"  Really  ?  How  much  ?  Can  I  sing  well  enough  ?  " 
and  he  clutched  her  arm  excitedly,  for  this  unex 
pected  ray  of  hope  dazzled  him. 

"  Some  of  them  will  have  ten  dollars  a  week,  and 
some  more,  —  the  real  nice  ones,  like  Lee,  the  sing 
ing  boy,  who  is  a  wonder,"  answered  Will,  in  the 
tone  of  one  well  informed  on  such  points. 

"  Ten  dollars !  "  gasped  Jimmy,  for  the  immen 
sity  of  the  sum  took  his  breath  away.  "  Could  I 
get  that?  How  long?  Where  do  we  go?  Do 
they  really  want  us  fellows  ?  Are  you  sure  it 's  all 
true?" 

"It  was  all  in  the  paper,  and  Miss  Pym,  the 
teacher  who  boards  at  our  house,  told  Ma  about  it. 
The  folks  advertised  for  school-children,  sixty  of 
'em,  and  will  really  pay;  and  Ma  said  I  could  go 


12  AUNT  JO'S    SCRAP-BAG. 

and  try,  and  all  the  money  I  get  I  'm  going  to  put 
in  a  bank  and  have  for  my  own.  Don't  you  believe 
me  now?" 

Miss  Pym  and  the  newspapers  settled  the  matter 
in  Jimmy's  mind,  and  made  him  more  anxious  than 
before  about  the  other  point. 

"Do  you  think  I  would  have  any  chance?  "he 
asked,  still  holding  Will,  who  seemed  inclined  for 
another  dance. 

"I  know  you  would.  Don't  you  do  splendidly 
at  school  ?  And  didn't  they  want  you  for  a  choir 
boy,  only  your  mother  couldn't  spare  you  ? "  an 
swered  Will,  decidedly ;  for  Jimmy  did  love  music, 
and  had  a  sweet  little  pipe  of  his  own,  as  she  well 
knew. 

"  Mother  will  have  to  spare  me  now,  if  they  pay 
like  that.  I  can  work  all  day  and  do  without 
sleep  to  earn  money  this  way.  Oh,  Will,  I'm  so 
glad  you  came,  for  I  was  just  ready  to  run  away  to 
sea.  There  didn't  seem  anything  else  to  do," 
whispered  Jimmy  in  a  choky  sort  of  tone,  as 
hopes  and  fears  struggled  together  in  his  boyish 
mind. 


JIMMY'S   CRUISE  IN  THE  PINAFORE.     13 

"  Run  as  fast  as  you  like,  and  I  '11  go  too.  We  '11 
sail  in  the  'Pinafore,'  and  come  home  with  our 
pockets  full  of  money. 

" '  Sing,  hey,  the  merry  maiden  and  the  tar ! ' " 
burst  out  Will,  who  was  so  full  of  spirits  she  could 
not  keep  still  another  minute. 

Jimmy  joined  in,  and  the  fresh  voices  echoed 
through  the  street  so  pleasantly  that  Mrs.  Peters 
stopped  scolding  her  six  squabbling  children,  while 
Kitty's  moaning  changed  to  a  feeble  little  sound  of 
satisfaction,  for  "  brother's  "  lullabies  were  her  chief 
comfort  and  delight. 

"  We  shall  lose  school,  you  know,  for  wre  act  in 
the  afternoon,  not  the  evening.  I  don't  care ;  but 
you  will,  you  like  to  study  so  well.  Miss  Pym 
didn't  like  it  at  first,  but  Ma  said  it  would  help  the 
poor  folks,  and  a  little  fun  wouldn't  hurt  the  chil 
dren.  I  thought  of  you  right  away,  and  if  you 
don't  get  as  much  money  as  I  do,  you  shall  have 
some  of  mine,  so  Kitty  can  go  away  soon." 

Will's  merry  face  grew  very  sweet  and  kind  as 
she  said  that,  and  Jimmy  was  glad  his  mother 
called  him  just  then,  because  he  did  not  know  how 


14  A  UNT  JO 'S  SCRAP-BA  G. 

to  thank  this  friend  in  need.  When  he  came  out 
with  the  parcel  of  vests  he  looked  like  a  different 
boy,  for  Mrs.  Nelson  had  told  him  to  go  and  find 
out  all  about  it,  and  had  seemed  as  much  dazzled 
by  the  prospect  as  he  did,  sewing  was  such  weary 
work. 

Their  interview  with  Miss  Pym  was  a  most 
encouraging  one,  and  it  was  soon  settled  that 
Jimmy  should  go  with  Will  to  try  for  a  place  on 
the  morrow. 

"  And  I  '11  get  it,  too !  "  he  said  to  himself,  as  he 
kissed  Kitty's  thin  cheek,  full  of  the  sweet  hope  that 
he  might  be  the  means  of  bringing  back  life  and 
color  to  the  little  face  he  loved  so  well. 

He  was  so  excited  he  could  not  sleep,  and  beguiled 
the  long  hours  by  humming  under  his  breath  all  the 
airs  he  knew  belonging  to  the  already  popular  opera. 
JSText  morning  he  flew  about  his  work  as  if  for  a 
wager,  and  when  Will  came  for  him  there  was  not 
a  happier  heart  in  all  the  city  than  the  hopeful 
one  that  thumped  under  Jimmy's  threadbare  best 
jacket. 

Such  a  crowd  of  girls  and  boys  as  they  found  at 


JIMMY'S  CRUISE  IN  THE  PINAFORE.     15 

the  hall  where  they  were  told  to  apply  for  inspec 
tion  ;  such  a  chirping  and  piping  went  on  there,  it 
sounded  like  a  big  cage  full  of  larks  and  linnets ; 
and  by  and  by,  when  the  trial  was  over,  such  a 
smiling  troop  of  children  as  was  left  to  be  drilled 
by  the  energetic  gentlemen  who  had  the  matter  in 
hand.  Among  this  happy  band  stood  our  Jimmy, 
chosen  for  his  good  voice,  and  Will,  because  of  her 
bright  face  and  lively,  self-possessed  manners. 
They  could  hardly  wait  to  be  dismissed,  and  it  was 
a  race  home  to  see  who  should  be  first  to  tell  the 
good  news.  Jimmy  tried  to  be  quiet  on  Kitty's 
account,  but  failed  entirely ;  and  it  was  a  pleasant 
sight  to  see  the  boy  run  into  his  mother's  arms, 
crying  joyfully,  — 

"  I  'm  in !  I  'm  in  !  Ten  dollars  a  week !  Hur 
rah  ! " 

"  I  can  hardly  believe  it ! "  And  weary  Mrs. 
Nelson  dropped  her  needle  to  indulge  in  a  few 
moments  of  delightful  repose. 

"  If  it  goes  well  they  may  want  us  for  a  month  or 
six  weeks,"  the  man  said.  "  Just  think,  maybe  I  '11 
get  fifty  or  sixty  dollars !  and  Baby  will  get  well 


16  AUNT  JO'S  SCRAP-BAG. 

right  off,"  cried  Jimmy,  in  an  arithmetical  sort  of 
rapture,  as  he  leaned  above  Kitty,  who  tried  to  clap 
her  little  hands  without  quite  knowing  what  the  joy 
was  all  about. 

HOW    HE    SAILED. 

After  that  day  Jimmy  led  a  very  happy  life,  for 
he  loved  rniysic  and  enjoyed  the  daily  drill  with  his 
mates,  though  it  was  long  before  he  saw  the  inside 
of  the  theatre.  Will  knew  a  good  deal  about  it, 
for  an  actor's  family  had  boarded  with  her  mother, 
and  the  little  girl  had  been  behind  the  scenes.  But 
to  Jimmy,  who  had  only  seen  one  fairy  play,  all  was 
very  strange  when  at  last  he  went  upon  the  stage ; 
for  the  glittering  world  he  expected  was  gone,  and 
all  was  dusty,  dark,  and  queer,  with  trap-doors  un 
derfoot,  machinery  overhead,  and  a  wilderness  of 
scenery  jumbled  together  in  the  drollest  way.  He 
was  all  eyes  and  ears,  and  enjoyed  himself  immensely 
as  he  came  and  went,  sung  and  acted,  with  the 
troop  of  lads  who  made  up  the  sailor  chorus.  It 
was  a  real  ship  to  him,  in  spite  of  painted  cannon, 
shaky  masts,  and  cabin  doors  that  led  nowhere.  He 


JIMMY'S   CRUISE  IN  THE  PINAFORE.      17 

longed  to  run  up  the  rigging ;  but  as  that  was  for 
bidden,  for  fear  of  danger,  he  contented  himself  by 
obeying  orders  with  nautical  obedience,  singing  with 
all  his  might,  and  taking  great  satisfaction  in  his 
blue  suit  with  the  magical  letters  "  H.  M.  S.  Pina 
fore  "  round  his  cap. 

Day  by  day  all  grew  more  and  more  interesting. 
His  mother  was  never  tired  of  hearing  his  adven 
tures,  he  sung  Kitty  to  sleep  with  the  new  songs,  and 
the  neighbors  took  such  a  friendly  interest  in  his 
success  that  they  called  him  Lord  Nelson,  and  pre 
dicted  that  he  would  be  as  famous  as  his  great 
namesake. 

When  the  grand  day  came  at  last,  and  the  crew 
of  jolly  young  tars  stood  ready  to  burst  forth  with 
the  opening  chorus, 

"  We  sail  the  ocean  blue, 

Our  saucy  ship  's  a  beauty  ; 
We  're  gallant  men  and  true, 
And  bound  to  do  our  duty !  " 

Jimmy  hardly  knew  whether  he  stood  on  his  head 
or  his  heels  at  first,  for,  in  spite  of  many  rehearsals, 
everything  seemed  changed.  Instead  of  daylight* 


18  AUNT  JO'S  SCRAP-BAP. 

gas  shone  everywhere,  the  empty  seats  were  full, 
the  orchestra  playing  splendidly,  and  when  fche 
curtain  rose,  a  sea  of  friendly  faces  welcomed  them, 
and  the  pleasant  sound  of  applause  made  the  hearts 
under  the  blue  jackets  dance  gayly. 

How  those  boys  did  sing !  how  their  eyes  shone, 
and  their  feet  kept  time  to  the  familiar  strains ! 
with  what  a  relish  they  hitched  up  their  trousers 
and  lurched  about,  or  saluted  and  cheered  as  the 
play  demanded.  With  what  interest  they  watched 
the  microscopic  midshipmite,  listened  to  Rafe  as 
his  sweet  voice  melodiously  told  the  story  of  his 
hapless  love,  and  smiled  on  pretty  Josephine,  who 
was  a  regular  bluebird  without  the  scream. 

"  Ain't  this  fun  ?  "  whispered  Jimmy's  next  neigh 
bor,  taking  advantage  of  a  general  burst  of  laughter, 
as  the  inimitable  little  bumboat  woman  advertised 
her  wares  with  captivating  drollery. 

"  Right  down  jolly ! "  answered  Jimmy,  feeling 
that  a  series  of  somersaults  across  the  stage  would 
be  an  immense  relief  to  the  pent-up  emotions  of 
his  boyish  soul.  For  under  all  the  natural  excite 
ment  of  the  hour  deep  down  lay  the  sweet  certainty 


JIMMY'S  CRUISE  IN  THE  PINAFORE.     19 

that  lie  was  earning  health  for  Kitty,  and  it  made 
his  heart  sing  for  joy  more  blithely  than  any  jovial 
chorus  to  which  he  lent  his  happy  voice. 

But  his  bliss  was  not  complete  till  the  stately.  Sit 
Joseph,  K.  C.  B.,  had  come  aboard,  followed  by 
"  his  sisters  and  his  cousins  and  his  aunts ; "  for 
among  that  flock  of  devoted  relatives  in  white 
muslin  and  gay  ribbons  was  Will.  Standing  in  the 
front  row,  her  bright  face  was  good  to  see,  for  her 
black  eyes  sparkled,  every  hair  on  her  head  curled 
its  best,  her  cherry  bows  streamed  in  the  breeze, 
and  her  feet  pranced  irresistibly  at  the  lively  parts 
of  the  music.  She  longed  to  dance  the  hornpipe 
which  the  little  Quaker  aunt  did  so  capitally,  but, 
being  denied  that  honor,  distinguished  herself  by 
the  comic  vigor  with  which  she  "polished  up  the 
handle  of  the  big  front  door,"  and  did  the  other 
"  business "  recorded  by  the  gallant  "  ruler  of  the 
Queen's  !N"avee." 

She  and  Jimmy  nodded  to  each  other  behind 
the  Admiral's  august  back,  and  while  Captain 
Corcoran  was  singing  to  the  moon,  and  Buttercup 
suffering  the  pangs  of  "  Wemorse,"  the  young 


20  AUNT  JO'S  SCRAP-BAG. 

people  had  a  gay  time  behind  the  scenes.  Jimmy 
and  Will  sat  upon  a  green  baize  bank  to  compare 
note.s,  while  the  relatives  flew  about  like  butter 
flies,  and  the  sailors  talked  base-ball,  jack-knives, 
and  other  congenial  topics,  when  not  envying  Sir 
Joseph  his  cocked  hat,  and  the  Captain  his  epau 
lettes. 

It  was  a  very  successful  launch,  and  the  merry 
little  crew  set  sail  with  a  fair  wind  and  every  pros 
pect  of  a  prosperous  voyage.  When  the  first  per 
formance  was  over,  our  two  children  left  their  fine 
feathers  behind  them,  like  Cinderella  when  the 
magic  hour  struck,  and  went  gayly  home,  feeling 
much  elated,  for  they  knew  they  should  go  back 
to  fresh  triumphs,  and  were  earning  money  by 
their  voices  like  Jenny  Lind  and  Mario.  How 
they  pitied  other  boys  and  girls  who  could  not  go 
in  at  that  mysterious  little  door;  how  important 
they  felt  as  parts  of  the  spectacle  about  which 
every  one  was  talking,  and  what  millionnaires  they 
considered  themselves  as  they  discussed  their  earn 
ings  and  planned  what  to  do  with  the  prospective 
fortunes.  • 


JIMMY'S   CRUISE  IN  THE  PINAFORE.     21 

That  was  the  beginning  of  many  busy,  happy 
wee,ks  for  both  the  children,  —  weeks  which  they 
long  remembered  with  great  pleasure,  as  did  older 
and  wiser  people;  for  that  merry,  innocent  little 
opera  proved  that  theatres  can  be  made  the  scenes 
of  harmless  amusement,  and  opened  to  a  certain 
class  of  young  people  a  new  and  profitable  field  for 
their  talents.  So  popular  did  this  small  company 
become  that  the  piece  went  on  through  the  summer 
vacation,  and  was  played  in  the  morning  as  well 
as  afternoon  to  satisfy  the  crowds  who  wished  to 
gee  and  hear  it. 

Never  had  the  dear  old  Boston  Museum,  which 
&o  many  of  us  have  loved  and  haunted  for  years, 
seen  such  a  pretty  sight  as  one  of  those  morning 
performances.  It  was  the  perfection  of  harmless 
merry-making,  and  the  audience  was  as  pleasant  a 
spectacle  as  that  upon  the  stage.  Fathers  and 
mothers  stole  an  hour  from  their  busy  lives  to  come 
and  be  children  with  their  children,  irresistibly 
attracted  and  charmed  by  the  innocent  fun,  the  gay 
music  that  bewitched  the  ear  one  could  hardly  tell 
why,  and  the  artless  acting  of  those  who  are  always 


22  AUNT  JO'S  SCRAP-BAG. 

* 

playing  parts,  whether  the  nursery  or  the  theatre  is 
their  stage. 

The  windows  stood  open,  and  sunshine  and 
fresh  air  came  in  to  join  the  revel.  Babies  crowed 
and  prattled,  mammas  chatted  together,  old  people 
found  they  had  not  forgotten  how  to  laugh,  and 
boys  and  girls  rejoiced  over  the  discovery  of  a  new 
delight  for  holidays.  It  was  good  to  be  there,  and 
in  spite  of  all  the  discussion  in  papers  and  parlors, 
no  harm  came  to  the  young  mariners,  but  much 
careful  training  of  various  sorts,  and  well-earned 
wages  that  went  into  pockets  which  sorely  needed 
a  silver  lining. 

HOW    THE    VOYAGE   ENDED. 

So  the  good  ship  "  Pinafore  "  sailed  and  sailed 
for  many  prosperous  weeks,  and  when  at  last  she 
came  into  port  and  dropped  anchor  for  the  season 
she  was  received  with  a  salute  of  general  approba 
tion  for  the  successful  engagement  out  of  which 
she  came  with  her  flags  flying  and  not  one  of  her 
gallant  crew  killed  or  wounded.  Well  pleased  with 
their  share  of  the  glory,  officers  and  men  went 


JIMMY'S  CRUISE  IN  THE  PINAFORE.     23 

ashore  to  spend  their  prize  money  with  true  sailor 
generosity,  all  enger  to  ship  again  for  another 
cruise  in  the  autumn. 

But  long  before  that  time  Able  Seaman  James 
Nelson  had  sent  his  family  into  the  country, 
mother  begging  Will  to  take  good  care  of  her 
dear  boy  till  he  could  join  them,  and  Kitty  throw 
ing  kisses  as  she  smiled  good-by,  with  cheeks 
already  the  rosier  for  the  comforts  "  brother "  had 
earned  for  her.  Jimmy  would  not  desert  his  ship 
while  she  floated,  but  managed  to  speud  his  Sun 
days  out  of  town,  often  taking  Will  with  him  as 
first  mate ;  and,  thanks  to  her  lively  tongue,  friends 

were  soon  made  for  the  new-comers.     Mrs.   Nel- 

-» 
son  found  plenty  of  sewing,  Kitty  grew  strong  and 

well  in  the  fine  air,  and  the  farmer  with  whom 
they  lived,  seeing  what  a  handy  lad  the  boy  was, 
offered  him  work  and  wages  for  the  autumn,  so  all 
could  be  independent  and  together.  With  this 
comfortable  prospect  before  him,  Jimmy  sang  away 
like  a  contented  blackbird,  never  tiring  of  his  duty, 
for  he  was  a  general  favorite,  and  Kitty  literally 
strewed  his  way  with  flowers  gathered  by  her  own 
grateful  little  hands. 


24  AUNT  JO'S  SCRAP-BAG. 

When  the  last  day  came,  he  was  in  such  spirits 
that  he  was  found  doing  double-shuffles  in  corners, 
hugging  the  midshipraite,  who  was  a  little  girl  of 
about  Kitty's  age,  and  treating  his  messmates  to 
peanuts  with  a  lavish  hand.  Will  had  her  horn 
pipe,  also,  when  the  curtain  was  down,  kissed  every 
one  of  the  other  "  sisters,  cousins,  and  aunts,"  and 
joined  lustily  in  the  rousing  farewell  cheers  given 
by  the  crew. 

A  few  hours  later,  a  cheerful-looking  boy  might 
nave  been  seen  trudging  toward  one  of  the  railway- 
stations.  A  new  hat,  brave  in  blue  streamers,  was 
on  his  head ;  a  red  balloon  struggled  to  escape  from 
one  hand  ;  a  shabby  carpet-bag,  stuffed  full,  was  in 
the  other ;  and  a  pair  of  shiny  shoes  creaked  briskly, 
as  if  the  feet  inside  were  going  on  a  very  pleasant 
errand. 

About  this  young  traveller,  who  walked  with  a 
sailor-like  roll  and  lurch,  revolved  a  little  girl  chat 
tering  like  a  magpie,  and  occasionally  breaking  into 
song,  as  if  she  couldn't  help  it. 

"Be  sure  you  come  next  Saturday;  it  won't  be 
half  such  fun  if  you  don't  go  halves,"  said  the  boy, 


JIMMY'S   CRUISE  IN  THE  PINAFORE.    25 

beaming  at  her  as  he  hauled  down  the  impatient 
balloon,  which  seemed  inclined  to  break  from  its 

moorings 

"'Yes,  I  know 

That  is  so!'" 

hummed  the  girl  with  a  skip  to  starboard,  that  she 
might  bear  a  hand  with  the  bag.  "  Keep  some 
cherries  for  me,  and  don't  forget  to  give  Kit  the 
doll  I  dressed  for  her." 

"  I  shouldn't  have  been  going  myself  if  it  hadn't 
been  for  you,  Will.  I  never  shall  forget  that,"  said 
Jimmy,  whom  intense  satisfaction  rendered  rather 
more  sedate  than  his  friend. 

"  Running  away  to  sea  is  great  fun, 

'  With  a  tar  that  ploughs  the  water  ! ' " 
sung  Will  in  spite  of  herself. 

"  *  And  a  gallant  captain's  daughter/  " 

echoed  Jimmy,  smiling  across  the  carpet-bag.  Then 
both  joined  in  an  irrepressible  chorus  of  "  Dash  it ! 
Dash  it ! "  as  a  big  man  nearly  upset  them  and  a  dog 
barked  madly  at  the  balloon. 

Being  safely  landed  in  the  train,  Jimmy  hung 


26  AUNT  JO'S  SCRAP-BAG. 

out  of  the  window  till  the  last  minuto,  discussing  his 
new  prospects  with  Will,  who  stood  on  tiptoe  out 
side,  bubbling  over  with  fun. 

"I'll  teach  you  to  make  butter  and  cheese,  and 
you  shall  be  ray  dairy-woman,  for  I  mean  to  be  a 
farmer,"  he  said,  just  as  the  bell  rang. 

"  All  right,  I  'd  like  that  ever  so  much."  And  then 
the  irrepressible  madcap  burst  out,  to  the  great 
amusement  of  the  passengers,  — 

"  Tor  you  might  have  been  a  Roosian, 

A  Frenchman,  Turk  or  Proosian, 

Or  an  Ital-i-an.'  " 

And  Jimmy  could  not  resist  shouting  back,  as  the 
train  began  to  move,  — 

"  '  But  in  spite  of  all  temptations 
To  belong  to  other  nations, 
I  'm  an  Amer-i-can.'  " 

Then  he  subsided,  to  think  over  the  happy  holi 
day  before  him  and  the  rich  cargo  of  comfort,  inde 
pendence,  and  pleasure  he  had  brought  home  from 
his  successful  cruise  in  the  "  Pinafore." 


n. 

TWO  LITTLE  TRAVELLERS. 

r  I  "HE  first  of  these  true  histories  is  about  Annie 
Percival,  —  a  very  dear  and  lovely  child,  whose 
journey  interested  many  other  children,  and  is  still 
'remembered  with  gratitude  by  those  whom  she  vis 
ited  on  a  far-off  island. 

Annie  was  six  when  she  sailed  away  to  Fayal  with 
her  mother,  grandmamma,  arid  "little  Aunt  Ruth," 
as  she  called  the  young  aunty  who  was  still  a  school 
girl.  Very  cunning  was  Annie's  outfit,  and  her 
little  trunk  was  a  pretty  as  well  as  a  curious  sight, 
for  everything  was  so  small  and  complete  it  looked 
as  if  a  doll  was  setting  off  for  Europe.  Such  a  wee 
dressing-case,  with  bits  of  combs  and  brushes  for 
the  curly  head  ;  such  a  cosey  scarlet  wrapper  for  the 
small  woman  to  wear  in  her  berth,  with  slippers  to 
match  when  she  trotted  from  state-room  to  state 
room  ;  such  piles  of  tiny  garments  laid  nicely  in, 


28  AUNT  JO'S  SCRAP-BAG. 

and  the  owner's  initials  on  the  outside  of  the  trunk ; 
not  to  mention  the  key  on  a  ribbon  in  her  pocket,  as 
grown  up  as  you  please. 

I  think  the  sight  of  that  earnest,  sunshiny  face 
must  have  been  very  pleasant  to  all  on  board,  no 
matter  how  seasick  they  might  be,  and  the  sound  of 
the  cheery  little  voice,  as  sweet  as  the  chirp  of  a  bird, 
especially  when  she  sung  the  funny  song  about  the 
"  Owl  and  the  pussy-cat  in  the  pea-green  boat,"  for 
she  had  charming  ways,  and  was  always  making 
quaint,  wise,  or  loving  remarks. 

Well,  "  they  sailed  and  they  sailed,"  and  came  at 
last  to  Fayal,  where  everything  was  so  new  and 
strange  that  Annie's  big  brown  eyes  could  hardly 
spare  time  to  sleep,  so  busy  were  they  looking  about. 
The  donkeys  amused  her  very  much,  so  did  the 
queer  language  and  ways  of  the  Portuguese  people 
round  her,  especially  the  very  droll  names  given  to 
the  hens  of  a  young  friend.  The  biddies  seemed  to 
speak  the  same  dialect  as  at  home,  but  evidently 
they  understood  Spanish  also,  and  knew  their  own 
names,  so  it  was  fun  to  go  and  call  Rio,  Pico,  Gappy, 
Clarissa,  Whorfie,  and  poor  Simonena,  whose  breast- 


TWO  LITTLE   TRAVELLERS.  29 

bone  grew  out  so  that  she  could  not  eat  and  had  to 
be  killed. 

But  the  thing  which  made  the  deepest  impression 
on  Annie  was  a  visit  to  a  charity-school  at  the  old 
convent  of  San  Antonio.  It  was  kept  by  some  kind 
ladies,  and  twenty-five  girls  were  taught  and  cared 
for  in  the  big,  bare  place,  that  looked  rather  gloomy 
and  forlorn  to  people  from  happy  Boston,  where 
charitable  institutions  are  on  a  noble  scale,  as  every 
body  knows. 

Annie  watched  all  that  went  on  with  intelligent 
interest,  and  when  they  were  shown  into  the  play 
room  she  was  much  amazed  and  afflicted  to  find  that 
the  children  had  nothing  to  play  with  but  a  heap  of 
rags,  out  of  which  they  made  queer  dolls,  with  rav 
elled  twine  for  hair,  faces  rudely  drawn  on  the  cloth, 
and  funny  boots  on  the  shapeless  legs.  No  other 
toys  appeared,  but  the  girls  sat  on  the  floor  of  the 
great  stone  room,  —  for  there  was  no  furniture,  — 
playing  contentedly  with  their  poor  dolls,  and  smil 
ing  and  nodding  at  "the  little  Americana,"  who 
gravely  regarded  this  sad  spectacle,  wondering  how 
they  could  get  on  without  china  and  waxen  babies, 


30  A  UNT  JO  'S  SCRAP-BA  G. 

tea-sets,  and  pretty  chairs  and  tables  to  keep  house 
with. 

The  girls  thought  that  she  envied  them  their  dolls, 
and  presently  one  came  shyly  up  to  offer  two  of 
their  best,  leaving  the  teacher  to  explain  in  English 
their  wish  to  be  polite  to  their  distinguished  guest. 
Like  the  little  gentlewoman  she  was,  Annie  gra 
ciously  accepted  the  ugly  bits  of  rag  with  answering 
nods  and  smiles,  and  carried  them  away  with  her 
as  carefully  as  if  they  were  of  great  beauty  and 
value. 

But  when  she  was  at  home  she  expressed  much 
concern  and  distress  at  the  destitute  condition  of 
the  children.  Nothing  but  rags  to  play  with  seemed 
a  peculiarly  touching  state  of  poverty  to  her  child 
ish  mind,  and  being  a  generous  creature  she  yearned 
to  give  of  her  abundance  to  "  all  the  poor  orphans 
who  didn't  have  any  nice  dollies."  She  had  several 
pets  of  her  own,  but  not  enough  to  go  round  even 
if  she  sacrificed  them,  so  kind  grandmamma,  who 
had  been  doing  things  of  this  sort  all  her  life,  re 
lieved  the  child's  perplexity  by  promising  to  send 
twenty-five  fine  dolls  to  Fayal  as  soon  as  the  party 


TWO  LITTLE   TRAVELLERS.  31 

returned  to  Boston,  where  these  necessaries  of  child- 
life  are  cheap  and  plenty. 

Thus  comforted,  Annie  felt  that  she  could  enjoy 
her  dear  Horta  and  Chica  Pico  Fatiera,  particular 
darlings  rechristened  since  her  arrival.  A  bundle 
of  gay  bits  of  silk,  cloth,  and  flannel,  and  a  present 
of  money  for  books,  were  sent  out  to  the  convent 
by  the  ladies.  A  treat  of  little  cheeses  for  the  girls 
to  eat  with  their  dry  bread  was  added,  much  to 
Annie's  satisfaction,  and  helped  to  keep  alive  her 
interest  in  the  school  of  San  Antonio. 

After  many  pleasant  adventures  during  the  six 
months  spent  in  the  city,  our  party  came  sailing 
home  again  all  the  better  for  the  trip,  and  Annie  so 
full  of  tales  to  tell  that  it  was  a  never-failing  source 
of  amusement  to  hear  her  hold  forth  to  her  younger 
brother  in  her  pretty  way,  "  splaining  and  'scribing 
all  about  it." 

Grandmamma's  promise  was  faithfully  kept,  and 
Annie  brooded  blissfully  over  the  twenty-five  dolls 
till  they  were  dressed,  packed,  and  sent  away  to 
Fayal.  A  letter  of  thanks  soon  came  back  from  the 
teacher,  telling  how  surprised  and  delighted  the 


32  AUNT  JO'S  SCRAP-BAG. 

girls  were,  and  how  they  talked  of  Annie  as  if  she 
were  a  sort  of  fairy  princess  who  in  return  for  two 
poor  rag-babies  sent  a  miraculous  shower  of  splendid 
china  ladies  with  gay  gowns  and  smiling  faces. 

This  childish  charity  was  made  memorable  to  all 
who  kiiew  of  it  by  the  fact  that  three  months  after  she 
came  home  from  that  happy  voyage  Annie  took  the 
one  from  which  there  is  no  return.  For  this  jour 
ney  there  was  needed  no  preparation  but  a  little 
white  gown,  a  coverlet  of  flowers,  and  the  casket 
where  the  treasure  of  many  hearts  was  tenderly 
laid  away.  All  alone,  but  not  afraid,  little  Annie 
crossed  the  unknown  sea  that  rolls  between  our 
world  and  the  Islands  of  the  Blest,  to  be  welcomed 
there,  I  am  sure,  by  spirits  as  innocent  as  her  own, 
leaving  behind  her  a  very  precious  memory  of  her 
budding  virtues  and  the  relics  of  a  short,  sweet 
life. 

Every  one  mourned  for  her,  and  all  her  small 
treasures  were  so  carefully  kept  that  they  still  exist, 
Poor  Horta,  in  the  pincushion  arm-chair,  seems 
waiting  patiently  for  the  little  mamma  to  come 
again ;  the  two  rag-dolls  lie  side  by  side  in  grand 


TWO  LITTLE   TRAVELLERS.  33 

ma's  scrap-book,  since  there  is  now  no  happy  voice 
to  wake  them  into  life ;  and  far  away  in  the  con 
vent  of  San  Antonio  the  orphans  carefully  keep 
their  pretty  gifts  in  memory  of  the  sweet  giver. 
To  them  she  is  a  saint  now,  not  a  fairy  princess; 
for  when  they  heard  of  her  death  they  asked  if  they 
might  pray  for  the  soul  of  the  dear  little  Americana, 
and  the  teacher  said,  "  Pray  rather  for  the  poor 
mother  who  has  lost  so  much."  So  the  grateful 
orphans  prayed  and  the  mother  was  comforted,  for 
now  another  little  daughter  lies  in  her  arms  and 
kisses  away  the  lonely  pain  at  her  heart. 

The  second  small  traveller  I  want  to  tell  about 
lived  in  the  same  city  as  the  first,  and  her  name  was 
Maggie  Woods.  Her  father  was  an  Englishman 
who  came  to  America  to  try  his  fortune,  but  did 
not  find  it ;  for,  when  Maggie  was  three  months  old, 
the  great  Chicago  fire  destroyed  their  home ;  soon 
after,  the  mother  died ;  then  the  father  was  drowned, 
and  Maggie  was  left  all  alone  in  a  strange  country. 

She  had  a  good  aunt  in  England,  however,  who 
took  great  pains  to  discover  the  child  after  the  death 
3 


34  AUNT  JO'S  SCRAP-BAG. 

of  the  parents,  and  sent  for  her  to  come  home  and 
be  cared  for.  It  was  no  easy  matter  to  get  a  five- 
years'  child  across  the  Atlantic,  for  the  aunt  could 
not  come  to  fetch  her,  and  no  one  whom  she  knew 
was  going  over.  But  Maggie  had  found  friends  in 
Chicago;  the  American  consul  at  Manchester  was 
interested  in  the  case,  and  every  one  was  glad  to 
help  the  forlorn  baby,  who  was  too  young  to  under 
stand  the  pathos  of  her  story. 

After  letters  had  gone  to  and  fro,  it  was  decided 
to  send  the  child  to  England  in  charge  of  the  cap 
tain  of  a  steamer,  trusting  to  the  kindness  of  all 
fellow-travellers  to  help  her  on  her  way. 

The  friends  in  Chicago  bestirred  thetnselves  to 
get  her  ready,  and  then  it  was  that  Annie's  mother 
found  that  she  could  do  something  which  would 
have  delighted  her  darling,  had  she  been  here  to 
know  of  it.  Laid  tenderly  away  were  many  small 
garments  belonging  to  the  other  little  pilgrim, 
whose  journeying  was  so  soon  ended;  and  from 
among  all  these  precious  things  Mrs.  Percival  care 
fully  chose  a  comfortable  outfit  for  that  cold  March 
voyage. 


TWO  LITTLE   TRAVELLERS  35 

The  little  gray  gown  went,  and  the  red  hood, 
the  warm  socks,  and  the  cosey  wraps  no  longer 
needed  by  the  quiet  sleeper  under  the  snow.  Per 
haps  something  of  her  loving  nature  lingered  about 
the  clothes,  and  helped  to  keep  the  orphan  warm 
and  safe,  for  Annie's  great  delight  was  to  pet  and 
help  all  who  needed  comfort  and  protection. 

When  all  was  ready,  Maggie's  small  effects  were 
packed  in  a  light  basket,  so  that  she  could  carry  it 
herself  if  need  be.  A  card  briefly  telling  the  story 
was  fastened  on  the  corner,  and  a  similar  paper 
recommending  her  to  the  protection  of  all  kind 
people,  was  sewed  to  the  bosom  of  her  frock.  Then, 
not  in  thetleast  realizing  what  lay  before  her,  the 
child  was  consigned  to  the  conductor  of  the  train  to 
be  forwarded  to  persons  in  New  York  who  would 
see  her  safely  on  board  the  steamer. 

I  should  dearly  like  to  have  seen  the  little  maid 
and  the  big  basket  as  they  set  out  on  that  long  trip 
as  tranquilly  as  if  for  a  day's  visit ;  and  it  is  a  comfort 
to  know  that  before  the  train  started,  the  persons 
who  took  her  there  had  interested  a  motherly  lady 
in  the  young  traveller,  who  promised  to  watch  over 
her  while  their  ways  were  the  same. 


36  A  UNT  JO  ' 5  SCRAP-BA  G. 

All  went  well,  and  Maggie  was  safely  delivered 
to  the  New  York  friends,  who  forwarded  her  to  the 
steamer,  well  supplied  with  toys  and  comforts  for 
the  voyage,  and  placed  in  charge  of  captain  and 
stewardess.  She  sailed  on  the  3d  of  March,  and 
on  the  12th  landed  at  Liverpool,  after  a  pleasant 
trip,  during  which  she  was  the  pet  of  all  on  board. 

The  aunt  welcomed  her  joyfully,  and  the  same 
day  the  child  reached  her  new  home,  the  Commer 
cial  Inn,  Compstall,  after  a  journey  of  over  four 
thousand  miles.  The  consul  and  owners  of  the 
steamer  wanted  to  see  the  adventurous  young  lady 
who  had  come  so  far  alone,  and  neighbors  and 
strangers  made  quite  a  lion  of  her,  for  all  kindly 
hearts  were  interested,  and  the  protective  charity 
which  had  guided  and  guarded  her  in  two  hemi 
spheres  and  across  the  wide  sea,  made  all  men 
fathers,  all  women  mothers,  to  the  little  one  till  she 
was  safe. 

Her  picture  lies  before  me  as  I  write,  —  a  pretty 
child  standing  in  a  chair,  with  a  basket  of  toys  on 
the  table  before  her ;  curly  hair  pushed  back  from 
the  face,  pensive  eyes,n  and  a  pair  of  stout  little  feet 


TWO  LITTLE   TRAVELLERS.  37 

crossed  one  over  the  other  as  if  glad  to  rest.  I  wish 
I  could  put  the  photograph  into  the  story,  because 
the  small  heroine  is  an  interesting  one,  and  still 
lives  with  the  good  aunt,  who  is  very  fond  and 
proud  of  her,  and  writes  pleasant  accounts  of  her 
progress  to  the  friends  in  America. 

So  ends  the  journey  of  my  second  small  traveller, 
and  when  I  think  of  her  safe  and  happy  in  a  good 
home,  I  always  fancy  that  (if  such  things  may  be) 
in  the  land  which  is  lovelier  than  even  beautiful 
old  England,  Maggie's  mother  watches  over  little 
Annie. 


III. 

A   JOLLY   FOURTH. 

TpvOOR-STEP  parties  were  the  fashion  that  year, 
and  it  was  while  a  dozen  young  folks  sat  chat 
ting  on  Annie  Hadwin's  steps  in  the  twilight  that 
they  laid  the  plan  which  turned  out  such  a  grand 
success  in  the  end. 

"  For  my  part,  I  am  glad  we  are  to  be  put  on  a 
short  allowance  of  gunpowder,  and  that  crackers 
are  forbidden,  they  are  such  a  nuisance,  burning 
holes  in  clothes,  frightening  horses,  and  setting 
houses  afire,"  said  sober  Fred  from  the  gate,  where 
he  and  several  other  fellows  were  roosting  socially 
together. 

"  It  won't  seem  a  bit  like  a  regular  Fourth  with 
out  the  salutes  three  times  during  the  day.  They 
are  afraid  the  old  cannon  will  kick,  and  blow  off 
some  other  fellow's  arm,  as  it  did  last  year,"  addel 
Elly  Dickens,  the  beau  of  the  party,  as  he  pulled 


A   JOLLY  FOURTH.  39 

down  his  neat  wristbands,  hoping  Maud  admired  the 
new  cuff -buttons  in  them. 

"  What  shall  we  do  in  the  evening,  since  the  ball 
is  given  up  ?  Just  because  the  old  folks  are  too  tired 
to  enjoy  dancing,  we  can't  have  any,  and  I  think  it  is 
too  bad,"  said  pretty  Belle,  impatiently,  for  she 
danced  like  a  fairy  and  was  never  tired. 

"  The  authorities  didn't  dare  to  stop  our  races  in 
the  morning.  There  would  have  been  an  insurrec 
tion  if  they  had,"  called  out  long  Herbert  from  the 
grass,  where  he  lay  at  the  feet  of  black-eyed 
Julia. 

"  We  must  do  something  to  finish  off  with.  Come, 
somebody  suggest  a  new,  nice,  safe,  and  jolly  plan 
for  the  evening,"  cried  Grace,  who  liked  fun,  and 
had  just  slipped  a  little  toad  into  Jack  Spratt's 
pocket  as  a  pleasant  surprise  when  he  felt  for  his 
handkerchief. 

"Let  us  offer  a  prize  for  the  brightest  idea. 
Five  minutes  for  meditation,  then  all  suggest  a  plan, 
and  the  best  one  shall  be  adopted,"  proposed  Annie, 
glad  to  give  a  lively  turn  to  her  party. 

All  agreed,   and    sudden    silence    followed    the 


40  AUNT  JO'S  SCRAP-BAG. 

chatter,  broken  now  and  then  by  an  exclamation  ol 
"  I  Ve  got  it !  No,  I  haven't,"  which  produced  a 
laugh  at  the  impetuous  party. 

"Time's  up,"  announced  Fred,  looking  at  "the 
turnip,"  as  his  big  old-fashioned  watch  was  called. 
Every  one  had  a  proposal  more  or  less  original,  and 
much  discussion  followed  ;  but  it  was  finally  decided 
that  Herbert's  idea  of  floating  about  in  boats  to 
enjoy  the  fireworks  on  the  hill  would  be  romantic, 
reposeful,  and  on  the  whole  satisfactory. 

"Each  boat  might  have  a  colored  lantern;  that 
would  look  pretty,  and  then  there  would  be  no 
danger  of  running  into  our  neighbors  in  the  dark," 
said  Annie,  who  was  a  little  timid  on  the  water  in  a 
wherry. 

"  Why  not  have  lots,  and  make  a  regular  *  feast  of 
lanterns,'  as  they  do  in  China  ?  I  was  reading  about 
it  the  other  day,  and  can  show  you  how  to  do  it. 
Won't  it  be  gay  ?  "  And  Fred  the  bookworm  nearly 
tumbled  off  his  perch,  as  an  excited  gesture  emptied 
his  pockets  of  the  library  books  which  served  as 
ballast. 

"  Yes  !  yes  ! "  cried  the  other  lads,  with  various 


A  JOLLY  FOURTH.  41 

demonstrations  of  delight  as  the  new  fancy  grew 
upon  their  lively  minds. 

"  Fred  and  Annie  must  have  the  prize,  for  their 
idea  is  the  most  brilliant  one.  Nan  can  give  the 
flag  to  the  winner  of  the  race,  and  '  Deacon '  can 
lead  the  boats,  for  I  think  it  would  be  fine  to  have 
a  procession  on  the  river.  Fireworks  are  an  old 
story,  so  let  us  surprise  the  town  by  something  regu 
larly  splendid,"  proposed  Elly,  fired  in  his  turn  with 
a  bright  idea. 

"  We  will !  we  will ! "  cried  the  rest,  and  at  once 
plunged  into  the  affair  with  all  the  ardor  of  their 
years. 

"Let  us  dress  up,"  said  Julia,  who  liked  theatri 
cals. 

"  In  different  characters,"  added  Maud,  thinking 
how  well  her  long  yellow  hair  would  look  as  a 
mermaid. 

"And  all  sing  as  we  go  under  the  bridges,"  put  in 
Annie,  who  adored  music. 

"  What  a  pity  the  boats  can't  dance,  it  would  be 
so  lovely  to  see  them  waltzing  round  like  fireflies  I " 
said  Belle,  still  longing  for  the  ball. 


42  AUNT  JO'S  SCRAP-BAG. 

•"  A  lot  of  fellows  are  coming  up  to  spend  the  day 
with  us,  and  we  ought  to  have  some  sort  ol  a  picnic ; 
city  folks  think  so  much  of  such  things,"  said  Her 
bert  the  hospitable,  for  his  house  and  barn  were  the 
favorite  resorts  of  all  his  mates,  and  three  gentle 
little  sisters  always  came  into  his  plans  if  possible. 

"  I  Ve  got  two  girl  cousins  coming,  and  they  would 
like  it,  I  guess.  I  should  any  way,  for  Jack  will  go 
tagging  after  Grace  and  leave  me  to  take  care  of 
them.  Let 's  have  a  picnic,  by  all  means,"  said  lazy 
Fred,  who  thought  all  girls  but  one  great  plagues. 

"  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  all  our  people  liked  that 
plan,  and  we  might  have  a  town  picnic  as  we  did  once 
before.  Let  every  one  ask  his  or  her  mother,  and 
see  if  we  can't  do  it,"  suggested  Annie,  eager  for 
a  whole  day  of  merry-making. 

The  door-step  party  was  late  in  breaking  up  that 
night ;  and  if  half  the  plans  proposed  had  been  car 
ried  out,  that  town  would  have  been  considered  a 
large  lunatic  asylum.  Wiser  heads  remodelled  the 
wild  plans,  however,  and  more  skilful  hands  lent 
their  aid,  so  that  only  the  possible  was  attempted, 
though  the  older  folks  had  bright  ideas  as  well  as 


A  JOLLY  FOURTH.  43 

the  boys  and  girls,  and  gave  the  finishing  touches  to 
the  affair. 

The  Fourth  was  a  fine  day,  with  a  fresh  air,  cloud 
less  sky,  and  no  dust.  The  town  was  early  astir, 
though  neither  sunrise  cannon  nor  the  Antiques  and 
Horribles  disturbed  the  dawn  with  their  clamor. 
The  bells  rang  merrily,  and  at  eight  all  flocked  to 
the  Town  Hall  to  hear  the  Declaration  of  Indepen 
dence  read  by  the  good  and  great  man  of  the  town, 
whose  own  wise  and  noble  words  go  echoing  round 
the  world,  teaching  the  same  lesson  of  justice,  truth, 
and  courage  as  that  immortal  protest.  An  Ode  by 
the  master  of  the  revels  was  sung,  then  every  one 
shouted  America  with  hearty  good-will,  and  before 
the  echoes  had  fairly  died  away,  the  crowd  streamed 
forth  to  the  river-side ;  for  these  energetic  people 
were  bound  to  make  a  day  of  it. 

At  nine  the  races  began,  and  both  green  banks  of 
the  stream  were  lined  with  gay  groups  eagerlv  watch 
ing  "  our  boys  "  as  they  swept  by  in  wherries,  pad 
dled  in  canoes,  or  splashed  and  tumbled  in  and  out 
of  their  tubs  amid  shouts  of  laughter  from  the  specta 
tors.  The  older  fellows  did  the  scientific,  and  their 


44  AUNT  JO'S  SCRAP-BAG. 

prizes  were  duly  awarded  by  the  judges.  But  our 
young  party  had  their  share  of  fun,  and  Fred  and 
Herbert,  who  were  chums  in  everything,  won  the 
race  for  the  little  flag  yearly  given  to  the  lads  for 
any  success  on  the  river.  Then  the  weary  heroes 
loaded  the  big  dory  with  a  cargo  of  girls,  and  with 
the  banner  blowing  gayly  in  the  wind,  rowed  away 
to  the  wide  meadow,  where  seven  oaks  cast 
shade  enough  to  shelter  a  large  picnic.  And  a 
large  one  they  had,  for  the  mammas  took  kindly  to 
the  children's  suggestion,  agreeing  to  club  together 
in  a  social  lunch,  each  contributing  her  stores,  her 
family,  and  her  guests,  all  being  happy  together 
in  the  free  and  easy  way  so  pleasant  and  possible  in 
summer  weather. 

A  merry  company  they  were,  and  it  was  a  com 
fortable  sight  to  see  the  tired  fathers  lying  in  the 
shade,  while  the  housewives  forgot  their  cares  for 
a  day,  the  young  folks  made  table-setting  and  dish 
washing  a  joke  by  doing  it  together,  and  the  chil 
dren  frolicked  to  their  hearts'  content.  Even  the 
babies  were  trundled  to  the  party  by  proud  mammas? 
and  took  naps  in  their  carriages,  or  held  receptions 


A  JOLLY  FOURTH.  45 

for  admiring  friends  and  neighbors  with  infantile 
dignity. 

A  social,  sensible  time,  and  when  sunset  came  all 
turned  homeward  to  make  ready  for  the  evening 
festivities.  It  was  vaguely  rumored  that  the  pretty 
rustic  bridge  was  to  be  illuminated,  for  the  older 
people  had  taken  up  the  idea  and  had  their  surprises 
ready  as  well  as  the  young  folks.  A  band  was 
stationed  by  the  river-side,  a  pretty  villa  on  the  hill 
blazed  out  with  lines  of  light,  and  elms  and  apple- 
trees  bore  red  and  golden  lanterns,  like  glorified 
fruit.  The  clerk  of  the  weather  was  evidently  inter 
ested  in  this  novel  entertainment,  for  the  evening 
was  windless,  dark,  and  cool,  so  the  arch  of  light 
that  spanned  the  shadowy  river  shone  splendidly. 
Fireworks  soared  up  from  the  hill-top  beyond,  fire 
flies  lent  their  dancing  sparks  to  illuminate  the 
meadows,  and  the  three  bridges  were  laden  with  the 
crowds,  who  greeted  each  new  surprise  with  cries  of 
admiration. 

Higher  up  the  stream,  where  two  branches  met 
about  a  rocky  island,  elves  seemed  gathering  for  a 
summer  reve1. 


46  AUNT  JO'S  SCRAP-BAG. 

From  all  the  landings  that  lined  either  shore 
brilliant  boats  glided  to  the  rendezvous;  some  hung 
with  luminous  globes  of  blue  and  silver,  some  with 
lanterns  fiery-red,  flower-shaped,  golden,  green,  or 
variegated,  as  if  a  rainbow  were  festooned  about  the 
viewless  masts.  Up  and  down  they  flashed,  steal 
ing  out  from  dusky  nooks  and  floating  in  their  own 
radiance,  as  they  went  to  join  the  procession  that 
wound  about  the  island  like  a  splendid  sea-serpent 
uncoiling  itself  from  sleep  and  darkness. 

"  Isn't  it  beautiful  ? "  cried  even  the  soberest  of 
the  townsfolk,  as  all  turned  their  backs  on  the  shin 
ing  bridge  and  bursting  rockets  to  admire  the  new 
spectacle,  which  was  finer  than  its  most  enthusiastic 
advocate  expected.  All  felt  proud  of  their  success 
as  they*  looked,  and  even  the  children  forgot  to 
shout  while  watching  the  pretty  pageant  that  pres 
ently  came  floating  by,  with  music,  light,  and  half- 
seen  figures  so  charming,  grotesque,  or  romantic  that 
the  illusion  was  complete. 

First,  a  boat  so  covered  with  green  boughs  and 
twinkling  yellow  sparks  that  it  looked  like  a  float 
ing  island  by  starlight  or  a  cage  of  singing-birds,  for 


A  JOLLY  FOURTH.  47 

music  came  from  within  and  fresh  voices,  led  by 
Annie,  sang  sweetly  as  it  sailed  along.  Then  a 
gondola  of  lovely  Venetian  ladies,  rowed  by  the 
handsome  artist,  who  was  the  pride  of  the  town. 
Next  a  canoe  holding  three  dusky  Indians,  complete 
in  war-paint,  wampum,  and  tomahawks,  paddled 
before  the  brilliant  barge  in  which  Cleopatra  sat 
among  red  cushions,  fanned  by  two  pretty  maids. 
Julia's  black  eyes  sparkled  as  she  glanced  about  her, 
feeling  very  queen-like  with  a  golden  crown  on  her 
head,  all  the  jewelry  she  could  muster  on  her  neck 
and  arms,  and  grandmother's  yellow  brocade  shin 
ing  in  the  light.  Belle  arid  Grace  waved  their  pea 
cock  fans  like  two  comely  little  Egyptian  damsels, 
and  the  many-colored  lanterns  made  a  pretty  picture 
of  the  whole. 

A  boatful  of  jolly  little  tars  followed,  with  Tom 
Brown,  Jr.,  as  skipper.  Then  a  party  of  fairies  in 
white,  with  silver  wings  and  wandjs,  and  lanterns 
like  moon  and  stars. 

Lou  Pope,  as  Lady  of  the  Lake,  rowed  her  own 
boat,  with  Jack  for  a  droll  little  Harper,  twanging 
his  zitter  for  want  of  a  better  instrument. 


48  AUNT  JO'S  SCRAP-BAG. 

A  black  craft  hung  with  lurid  red  lanterns  and 
manned  by  a  crew  of  ferocious  pirates  in  scarlet 
shirts,  dark  beards,  and  an  imposing  display  of  pis 
tols  and  cutlasses  in  their  belts,  not  to  mention  the 
well-known  skull  and  cross-bones  on  the  flag  flying 
at  the  masthead,  produced  a  tremendous  effect  as 
the  crew  clashed  their  arms  and  roared  the  blood- 
thirstiest  song  they  could  find.  All  the  boys  cheered 
that,  and  all  the  horses  pranced  as  the  pirates  fired 
off  their  pistols,  causing  timid  ladies  to  shriek,  and 
prudent  drivers  to  retire  from  the  bridges  with 
their  carriage-loads  of  company. 

A  Chinese  junk  (or  what  was  intended  to  look 
like  one,  but  really  resembled  a  mud-scow),  with  a 
party  of  Mandarins,  rich  in  fans,  umbrellas,  and 
pigtails,  taking  tea  on  board  in  a  blaze  of  fantastic 
lanterns,  delighted  the  children. 

Then  a  long  low  boat  came  sliding  by  softly, 
lighted  with  pale  blue  lamps,  and  on  a  white  couch 
lay  "  Elaine,"  the  letter  in  her  hand,  the  golden 
hair  streaming  to  her  knees,  and  at  her  feet  the 
dwarf  sorrowfully  rowing  her  down  to  Camelot. 
Every  one  recognized  that,  for  the  master  of  the 


A  JOLLY  FOURTH.  49 

revels  got  it  up  as  no  one  else  could ;  and  Maud 
laughed  to  herself  as  the  floating  tableau  went 
under  the  bridge,  and  she  heard  people  rushing 
to  the  other  side,  waiting  eagerly  to  see  the  "  lily 
maid  "  appear  and  glide  away,  followed  by  applause, 
as  one  of  the  prettiest  sights  seen  that  night. 

There  were  eighty  boats  in  all,  and  as  the  glitter 
ing  train  wound  along  the  curves  of  the  rivet 
smooth  and  dark  as  a  mirror,  the  effect  was  truly 
beautiful,  especially  when  they  all  congregated  be 
low  the  illuminated  bridge,  making  an  island  of 
many-colored  light.  An  enchanted  island  it  seemed 
to  lookers-on,  for  music  and  laughter  came  from  it, 
and  a  strange  mixture  of  picturesque  faces  and 
figures  flitted  to  and  fro. 

Elaine  sat  up  and  ate  bonbons  with  the  faithful 
dwarf;  Ellen  Douglas  ducked  the  Harper;  the 
Chinamen  invited  Cleopatra  to  tea ;  the  mermaids 
pelted  the  pirates  with  water-lilies ;  the  gallant  gon 
dolier  talked  art  with  the  Venetian  ladies ;  and  the 
jolly  little  tars  danced  hornpipes,  regardless  of  dan 
ger;  while  the  three  Indians,  Fred,  Herbert,  and 
Elly,  whooped  and  tomahawked  right  and  left  as 
if  on  the  war-path. 


50  A  UNT  JO  'S  SCRAP-BA  G. 

* 

A  regular  Midsummer  Night's  Dream  frolic, 
which  every  one  enjoyed  heartily,  while  the  band 
played  patriotic  airs,  the  pretty  villa  shone  like  a 
fairy  palace,  and  the  sky  was  full  of  dazzling 
meteors,  falling  stars,  and  long-tailed  comets,  as 
the  rockets  whizzed  and  blazed  from  the  hill-tops. 

Just  as  the  fun  was  at  its  height  the  hurried 
clang  of  a  bell  startled  the  merry-makers,  and  a  cry 
of  "  Fire  !  "  came  from  the  town,  causing  a  general 
stampede.  "  Post-office  all  afire !  Men  wanted ! " 
shouted  a  breathless  boy,  racing  through  the  crowd 
toward  the  river.  Then  great  was  the  scampering, 
for  shops  stood  thickly  all  about  the  post-office,  and 
distracted  merchants  hastily  collected  their  goods, 
while  the  firemen  smashed  windows,  ran  up  and 
down  ladders,  broke  in  doors,  and  poured  streams 
of  water  with  generous  impartiality  over  everybody 
and  everything  in  the  neighborhood,  and  the  boys 
•flew  about,  as  if  this  unexpected  display  of  fireworks 
suited  them  exactly. 

Such  noble  exertions  could  not  fail  of  success, 
and  the  fire  was  happily  extinguished  before  the 
river  was  pumped  dry.  Then  every  one  went  home, 


A  JOLLY  FOURTH.  51 

• 

and,  feeling  the  need  of  refreshment  after  their 
labors,  had  supper  all  over  again,  to  the  great  de 
light  of  the  young  folks,  who  considered  this  a  most 
appropriate  finish  to  an  exciting  day. 

But  the  merriest  party  of  all  was  the  one  gathered 
on  Fred's  piazza  to  eat  cake  and  talk  over, the  fun. 
Such  a  droll  group  as  they  were.  The  Indians 
were  sadly  dilapidated  as  to  feathers  and  paint, 
beside  being  muddy  to  the  knees,  having  landed  in 
hot  haste.  Poor  Cleopatra  had  deen  drenched  by 
the  hose,  but  though  very  damp  still  sparkled  with 
unextinguishable  gayety.  Elaine  had  tied  herself  up 
in  a  big  shawl,  having  lost  her  hat  overboard.  Jack 
and  Grace  wore  one  waterproof,  and  Annie  was 
hoarse  with  leading  her  choir  of  birds  on  the 
floating  island.  Also  several  of  the  pirates  wore 
their  beards  twisted  round  behind  for  the  sake  of 
convenience  in  eating. 

All  were  wet,  warm,  and  weary,  but  all  rejoiced 
over  the  success  of  the  day's  delights,  and  it  was 
unanimously  agreed  that  this  had  been  the  jolliest 
Fourth  they  had  ever  known. 


IV. 

SEVEN  BLACK  CATS. 

'THHEY  all  came  uninvited,  they  all  led  eventful 

lives,  and  all  died  tragical  deaths ;  so  out  of 

the  long  list  of  cats  whom  I  have  loved  and  lost, 

these  seven  are  the  most  interesting  and  memorable. 

I  have  no  prejudice  against  color,  but  it  so  hap 
pened  that  our  pussies  were  usually  gray  or  maltese. 
One  white  one,  who  would  live  in  the  coal-bin,  was 
a  failure,  and  we  never  repeated  the  experiment. 
Black  cats  had  not  been  offered  us,  so  we  had  no 
experience  of  them  till  number  one  came  to  us  in 
this  wise. 

Sitting  at  my  window,  I  saw  a  very  handsome 
puss  come  walking  down  the  street  in  the  most 
composed  and  dignified  manner.  I  watched  him 
with  interest,  wondering  where  he  was  going. 

Pausing  now  and  then,  he  examined  the  houses 
as  he  passed,  as  if  looking  for  a  particular  number, 


SEVEN  BLACK  CATS.  53 

till,  coming  to  our  gate,  he  pushed  it  open,  and 
walked  in.  Straight  up  to  the  door  he  came,  and 
finding  it  shut  sat  down  to  wait  till  some  one  opened 
it  for  him. 

Much  amused,  I  went  at  once,  and  he  came  di 
rectly  in,  after  a  long  stare  at  me,  and  a  few  wakings 
of  his  plumy  tail.  It  was  evidently  the  right  place, 
and,  following  me  into  the  parlor,  he  perched  him 
self  on  the  rug,  blinked  at  the  fire,  looked  round  the 
room,  washed  his  face,  and  then,  lying  down  in  a 
comfortable  sprawl,  he  burst  into  a  cheerful  purr,  as 
if  to  say,  — 

"  It 's  all  right ;  the  place  suits  me,  and  I  'm  going 
to  stay." 

His  coolness  amused  me  very  much,  and  his 
beauty  made  me  glad  to  keep  him.  He  was  not  a 
common  cat,  but,  as  we  afterward  discovered,  a 
Russian  puss.  His  fur  was  very  long,  black,  and 
glossy  as  satin ;  his  tail  like  a  graceful  plume,  and 
his  eyes  as  round  and  yellow  as  two  little  moons. 
His  paws  were  very  dainty,  and  white  socks  and 
gloves,  with  a  neat  collar  and  shirt-bosom,  gave  him 
the  appearance  df  an  elegant  young  beau,  in  full 


54  AUNT  JO'S  SCRAP-BAG. 

evening  dress.  His  face  was  white,  with  black  hair 
parted  in  the  middle ;  and  whiskers,  fiercely  curled 
up  at  the  end,  gave  him  a  martial  look. 

Every  one  admired  him,  and  a  vainer  puss  never 
caught  a  mouse.  If  he  saw  us  looking  at  him,  he 
instantly  took  an  attitude ;  gazed  pensively  at  the 
fire,  as  if  unconscious  of  our  praises ;  crouched  like 
a  tiger  about  to  spring,  and  glared,  and  beat  the 
floor  with  his  tail ;  or  lay  luxuriously  outstretched, 
rolling  up  his  yellow  eyes  with  a  sentimental  expres 
sion  that  was  very  funny. 

"We  named  him  the  Czar,  and  no  tyrannical  em 
peror  of  Russia  ever  carried  greater  desolation  and 
terror  to  the  souls  of  his  serfs,  than  this  royal  cat 
did  to  the  hearts  and  homes  of  the  rats  and  mice 
over  whom  he  ruled. 

The  dear  little  mice  who  used  to  come  out  to  play 
so  confidingly  in  my  room,  live  in  my  best  bonnet- 
box,  and  bring  up  their  interesting  young  families 
in  the  store-room,  now  fell  an  easy  prey  to  the  Czar, 
who  made  nothing  of  catching  half  a  dozen  a  day. 

Brazen-faced  old  rats,  gray  in  sin,  who  used  to 
walk  boldly  in  and  out  of  the  front  door,  ravage  our 


SEVEN  BLACK   CATS.  55 

closets,  and  racket  about  the  walls  by  night,  now 
paused  in  their  revels,  and  felt  that  their  day  was 
over.  Czar  did  not  know  what  fear  was,  and  flew 
at  the  biggest,  fiercest  rat  that  dared  to  show  his  long 
tail  on  the  premises.  He  fought  many  a  gallant 
fight,  and  slew  his  thousands,  always  bringing  his 
dead  foe  to  display  him  to  us,  and  receive  our 
thanks. 

It  was  sometimes  rather  startling  to  find  a  large 
rat '  reposing  in  the  middle  of  your  parlor ;  not 
always  agreeable  to  have  an  excited  cat  bounce  into 
your  lap,  lugging  a  half-dead  rat  in  his  mouth ;  or 
to  have  visitors  received  by  the  Czar,  tossing  a 
mouse  on  the  door-steps,  like  a  playful  child  with  its 
cup  and  ball. 

He  was  not  fond  of  petting,  but  allowed  one  or 
two  honored  beings  to  cuddle  him.  My  work-bas 
ket  was  his  favorite  bed,  for  a  certain  fat  cushion 
suited  him  for  a  pillow,  and,  having  coolly  pulled 
out  all  the  pins,  the  rascal  would  lay  his  handsome 
head  on  the  red  mound,  and  wink  at  me  with  an 
irresistibly  saucy  expression  that  made  it  impossible 
to  scold. 


56  AUNT  JO'S  SCRAP-BAG. 

All  summer  we  enjoyed  his  pranks  and  admired 
his  manly  virtues ;  but  in  the  winter  we  lost  him, 
for,  alas !  he  found  his  victor  in  the  end,  and  fell  a 
victim  to  his  own  rash  daring. 

One  morning  after  a  heavy  snow-fall,  Czar  went 
out  to  take  a  turn  up  and  down  the  path.  As  he 
sat  with  his  back  to  the  gate,  meditatively  watching 
some  doves  on  the  shed-roof,  a  big  bull-dog  entered 
the  yard,  and  basely  attacked  him  in  the  rear. 
Taken  by  surprise,  the  dear  fellow  did  his  best,  and 
hit  out  bravely,  till  he  was  dragged  into  the  deep 
snow  where  he  could  not  fight,  and  there  so  cruelly 
maltreated  that  he  would  have  been  murdered  out 
right,  if  I  had  not  gone  to  the  rescue. 

Catching  up  a  broom,  I  belabored  the  dog  so  ener 
getically  that  he  was  forced  to  turn  from  the  poor 
Czar  to  me.  What  would  have  become  of  me  I 
don't  know,  for  the  dog  was  in  a  rage,  and  evidently 
meditating  a  grab  at  my  ankles,  when  his  master 
appeared  and  ordered  him  off. 

Never  was  a  boy  better  scolded  than  that  one,  for 
I  poured  forth  vials  of  wrath  upon  his  head  as  I  took 
up  my  bleeding  pet,  and  pointed  to  his  wounds  as 
indignantly  as  Antony  did  to  Cesar's. 


SEVEN  BLACK  CATS.  57 

The  boy  fled  affrighted,  and  I  bore  my  poor  Czar 
in  to  die.  All  day  he  lay  on  his  cushion,  patient 
and  quiet,  with  his  torn  neck  tied  up  in  a  soft  band 
age,  a  saucer  of  cream  close  by,  and  an  afflicted 
mistress  to  tend  and  stroke  him  with  tender  lamen 
tations. 

We*  had  company  in  the  evening,  and  my  inter 
esting  patient  was  put  into  another  room.  Once,  in 
the  midst  of  conversation,  I  thought  I  heard  a  plain 
tive  mew,  but  could  not  go  to  see,  and  soon  forgot 
all  about  it ;  but  when  the  guests  left,  my  heart  was 
rent  by  finding  Czar  stretched  out  before  the  door 
quite  dead. 

Feeling  death  approach,  he  had  crept  to  say  good- 
by,  and  with  a  farewell  mew  had  died  before  the 
closed  door,  a  brave  and  faithful  cat  to  the  end. 

He  was  buried  with  great  pomp,  and  before  his 
grave  was  green,  little  Blot  came  to  take  his  place, 
though  she  never  filled  it.  Blot's  career  was  a  sad 
and  brief  one.  Misfortune  marked  her  for  its  own, 
and  life  was  one  too  many  for  her. 

I  saw  some  boys  pelting  a  wretched  object  with 
mud  I  delivered  a  lecture  on  cruelty  to  animals,. 


58  AUNT  JO'S  SCRAP-BAG. 

confiscated  the  victim,  and,  wrapping  her  in  a  news 
paper,  bore  the  muddy  little  beast  away  in  triumph. 
Being  washed  and  dried,  she  turned  out  a  thin 
black  kit,  with  dirty  blue  bows  tied  in  her  ears, 
As  I  don't  approve  of  ear-rings,  I  took  hers  out,  and 
tried  to  fatten  her  up,  for  she  was  a  forlorn  creature 
at  first. 

But  Blot  would  not  grov^  plump.  Her  early 
wrongs  preyed  upon  her,  and  she  remained  a  thin, 
timid,  melancholy  little  cat  all  her  days.  I  could 
not  win  her  confidence.  She  had  lost  her  faith  in 
mankind,  and  I  don't  blame  her.  She  always  hid  in 
corners,  quaked  when  I  touched  her,  took  her  food 
by  stealth,  and  sat  in  a  forlorn  bunch  in  cold  nooks, 
down  cellar  or  behind  the  gate,  mewing  despon 
dently  to  herself,  as  if  her  woes  must  find  a  vent. 
She  would  not  be  easy  and  comfortable.  No  cushion 
could  allure,  no  soft  beguilements  win  her  to  purr, 
no  dainty  fare  fill  out  her  rusty  coat,  no  warmth  or 
kindness  banish  the  scared  look  from  her  sad  green 
eyes,  no  ball  or  spool  lure  her  to  play,  or  cause  her 
to  wag  her  mortified  thin  tail  with  joy. 

Poor,  dear  little  Blot !     She  was  a  pathetic  if  pec- 


SEVEN  BLACK  CATS.  59 

tacle,  and  her  end  was  quite  in  keeping  with  the 
rest  of  her  hard  fate.  Trying  one  day  to  make  her 
come  and  be  cuddled,  she  retreated  to  the  hearth, 
and  when  I  pursued  her,  meaning  to  catch  and  pet 
her,  she  took  a  distracted  skip  right  into  a  bed  of 
hot  coals.  One  wild  howl,  and  another  still  more 
distracted  skip  brought  her  out  again,  to  writhe  in 
agony  with  four  burnt  paws  and  a  singed  skin. 

"  We  must  put  the  little  sufferer  out  of  her  pain," 
said  a  strong-minded  friend;  and  quenched  little 
Blot's  life  and  suffering  together  in  a  pail  of  water. 

I  laid  her  out  sweetly  in  a  nice  box,  with  a  doll's 
blanket  folded  round  her,  and,  bidding  the  poor  dear 
a  long  farewell,  confided  her  to  old  MacCarty  for 
burial.  He  was  my  sexton,  and  I  could  trust  him 
to  inter  my  darlings  decently,  and  not  toss  them 
disrespectfully  into  a  dirt-cart  or  over  a  bridge. 

My  dear  Mother  Bunch  was  an  entire  contrast  to 
Blot.  Such  a  fat,  cosey  old  mamma  you  never  saw, 
and  her  first  appearance  was  so  funny,  I  never  think 
of  her  without  laughing. 

In  our  back  kitchen  was  an  old  pideboard,  with 
two  little  doors  in  the  lower  part.  Some  bits  of  car- 


60  AUNT  JO'S  SCRAP-BAG. 

pet  were  kept  there,  but  we  never  expected  to  let 
that  small  mansion  till,  opening  the  door  one  day,  I 
found  Mrs.  Bunch  and  her  young  family  comfortably 
settled. 

I  had  never  seen  this  mild  black  cat  before,  and  I 
fancy  no  one  had  ever  seen  her  three  roly-poly,  jet- 
black  kits.  Such  a  confiding  puss  I  never  met,  for 
when  I  started  back,  surprised,  Mrs.  Bunch  merely 
looked  at  me  with  an  insinuating  purr,  and  began  to 
pick  at  my  carpet,  as  if  to  say,  — 

"  The  house  suited  me ;  I  '11  take  it,  and  pay  rent 
by  allowing  you  to  admire  and  pet  my  lovely 
babies." 

I  never  thought  of  turning  her  out,  and  there  she 
remained  for  some  months,  with  her  children  grow 
ing  up  around  her,  all  as  fat  and  funny,  black  and 
amiable,  as  herself. 

Three  jollier  kits  were  never  born,  and  a  more 
devoted  mother  never  lived.  I  put  her  name  on  the 
door  of  her  house,  and  they  lived  on  most  comforta 
bly  together,  even  after  they  grew  too  big  for  their 
accommodations,  and  tails  and  legs  hung  out  after 
the  family  had  retired. 


SEVEN  BLACK  CATS.  61 

I  really  did  hope  they  would  escape  the  doom  that 
seemed  to  pursue  my  cats,  but  they  did  not,  for  all 
came  to  grief  in  different  ways.  Cuddle  Bunch  had 
a  fit,  and  fell  out  of  the  window,  killing  herself  in 
stantly.  Othello,  her  brother,  was  shot  by  a  bad 
boy,  who  fired  pistols  at  all  the  cats  in  the  neighbor 
hood,  as  good  practice  for  future  gunning  expedi 
tions. 

Little  Purr  was  caught  in  a  trap,  set  for  a  wood- 
chuck,  and  so  hurt  she  had  to  be  gently  chloroformed 
out  of  life.  Mother  Bunch  still  remained,  and  often 
used  to  go  and  sit  sadly  under  the  tree  where  her 
infants  were  buried,  —  an  afflicted,  yet  resigned 
parent. 

Her  health  declined,  but  we  never  had  the  heart 
to  send  her  away,  and  it  wouldn't  have  done  any 
good  if  we  had  tried.  We  did  it  once,  and  it  was  a 
dead  failure.  At  one  time  the  four  cats  were  so 
wearing  that  my  honored  father,  who  did  not  appre 
ciate  the  dears,  resolved  to  clear  the  house  of  the 
whole  family ;  so  he  packed  them  in  a  basket,  and 
carried  them  "  over  the  hills  and  far  away,"  like  the 
"  Babes  in  the  Wood."  Coming  to  a  lonely  spot,  he 


62  AUNT  JO'S  SCRAP-BAG. 

let  them  out,  and  returned  home,  much  relieved  in 
mind.  Judge  of  his  amazement  when  the  first  thing 
he  saw  was  Mrs.  Bunch  and  her  children,  sitting  on 
the  steps  resting  after  their  run  home. 

We  all  laughed  at  the  old  gentleman  so  that  he 
left  them  in  peace,  and  even  when  the  mamma  alone 
remained,  feeble  and  useless,  her  bereavement  made 

her  sacred. 

* 
When  we  shut  up  the  house,  and  went  to  the  city 

for  the  winter,  we  gave  Mother  Bunch  to  the  care  of 
a  kind  neighbor,  who  promised  to  guard  her  faith 
fully.  Returning  in  the  spring,  one  of  my  first 
questions  was,  — 

"  How  is  old  Pussy  ?  " 

Great  was  my  anguish  when  my  neighbor  told  me 
that  she  was  no  more.  It  seems  the  dear  thing  pined 
for  her  old  home,  and  kept  returning  to  it  in  spite  of 
age  or  bad  weather. 

Several  times  she  was  taken  back  when  she  ran 
away,  but  at  last  they  were  tired  of  fussing  over  her, 
and  let  her  go.  A  storm  came  on,  and  when  they 
went  to  see  what  had  become  of  her,  they  found  her 
frozen,  in  the  old  sideboard,  where  I  first  discovered 
her  with  her  kits  about  her. 


SEVEN  BLACK  CATS.  63 

As  a  delicate  attention  to  me,  Mrs.  Bunch's  skin 
was  preserved,  and  presented  when  the  tale  was  told. 
I  kept  it  some  time,  but  the  next  Christmas  I  made 
it  into  muffs  for  several  dolls,  who  were  sent  me  to 
dress;  and  very  nice  little  muffs  the  pretty  black 
fur  made,  lined  with  cherry  silk,  and  finished  off 
with  tiny  tassels. 

I  loved  the  dear  old  puss,  but  I  knew  the  moths 
would  get  her  skin  if  I  kept  it,  and  preferred  to  re 
joice  the  hearts  of  several  small  friends  with  dolls  in 
full  winter  costume.  I  am  sure  Mrs.  Bunch  would 
have  agreed  with  me,  and  not  felt  that  I  treated  her 
remains  with  disrespect. 

The  last  of  my  cats  was  the  blackest  of  all,  and 
such  a  wild  thing  we  called  him  the  Imp.  He  tum 
bled  into  the  garret  one  day  through  a  broken  scut 
tle,  and  took  possession  of  the  house  from  that  time 
forth,  acting  as  if  bewitched. 

He  got  into  the  furnace  pipes,  but  could  not  get 
out,  and  kept  me  up  one  whole  night,  giving  him  air 
and  light,  food  and  comfort,  through  a  little  hole  in 
the  floor,  while  waiting  for  a  carpenter  to  come  and 
saw  him  out. 


64  AUNT  JO'S  SCRAP-BAG. 

He  got  a  sad  pinch  in  his  tail,  which  made  it 
crooked  forever  after.  He  fell  into  the  soft-soap  bar 
rel,  and  was  fished  out  a  deplorable  spectacle.  He 
was  half  strangled  by  a  fine  collar  we  put  on  him, 
and  was  found  hanging  by  it  on  a  peg. 

People  sat  down  on  him,  for  he  would  lie  in 
chairs.  No  one  loved  him  much,  for  he  was  not 
amiable  in  temper,  but  bit  and  scratched  if  touched, 
worried  the  bows  off  our  slippers  in  his  play,  and  if 
we  did  not  attend  to  him  at  once,  he  complained  in 
the  most  tremendous  bass  growl  I  ever  heard. 

He  was  not  beautiful,  but  very  impressive ;  being 
big,  without  a  white  hair  on  him.  One  eye  was  blue 
and  one  green,  and  the  green  one  was  always  half 
shut,  as  if  he  was  winking  at  you,  which  gave  him  a 
rowdy  air  comical  to  see.  Then  he  swaggered  in  his 
walk,  never  turned  out  for  any  one,  and  if  offended 
fell  into  rages  fit  to  daunt  the  bravest  soul. 

Yes,  the  Imp  was  truly  an  awful  animal ;  and  when 
a  mischievous  cousin  of  ours  told  us  he  wanted  a 
black  cat,  without  a  single  white  hair  on  it,  to  win  a 
wager  with,  we  at  once  offered  ours. 

It  seems  that  sailors  are  so  superstitious  they  will 


SEVEN  BLACK  CATS.  65 

not  sail  in  a  ship  with  a  black  cat ;  and  this  rogue 
of  a  cousin  was  going  to  send  puss  off  on  a  voyage, 
unknown  to  any  one  but  the  friend  who  took  him, 
and  when  the  trip  was  safely  over,  he  was  to  be 
produced  as  a  triumphant  proof  of  the  folly  of  the 
nautical  superstition. 

So  the  Imp  was  delivered  to  his  new  master,  and 
sailed  away  packed  up  in  an  old  fishing-basket,  with 
his  head  poked  out  of  a  hole  in  the  cover. 

We  waited  anxiously  to  hear  how  the  joke  ended  ; 
but  unfortunately  the  passage  was  very  rough,  his 
guardian  too  ill  to  keep  him  safe  and  quiet,  so  the 
irrepressible  fellow  escaped  from  prison,  and  be 
trayed  himself  by  growling  dismally,  as  he  went 
lurching  across  the  deck  to  the  great  dismay  of  the 
sailors. 

They  chased,  caught,  and  tossed  the  poor  Imp 
overboard  without  loss  of  time.  And  when  the  joke 
came  out,  they  had  the  best  of  it,  for  the  weather 
happened  to  improve,  and  the  rest  of  the  voyage 
was  prosperous.  So,  of  course,  they  laid  it  all  to  the 
loss  of  the  cat,  and  were  more  fixed  in  their  belief 
than  ever. 
<  6 


66  AUNT  JO'S  SCRAP-BAG. 

We  were  sorry  that  poor  old  Imp  met  so  sad  a 
fate,  but  did  not  mourn  him  long,  for  he  had  not 
won  our  hearts  as  some  of  our  other  pets  had. 

He  was  the  last  of  the  seven  black  cats,  and  we 
never  had  another ;  for  I  really  did  feel  as  if  there 
was  something  uncanny  about  them  after  my  tragi 
cal  experiences  with  Czar,  Blot,  Mother  Bunch's 
family,  and  the  martyred  Imp. 


V. 

ROSA'S  TALE. 

"O W,  I  believe  every  one  has  had  a  Christmas 
present  and  a  good  time.  Nobody  has 
Deen  forgotten,  not  even  the  cat,"  said  Mrs.  Ward 
to  her  daughter,  as  she  looked  at  Pobbylinda,  purr 
ing  on  the  rug,  with  a  new  ribbon  round  her  neck 
and  the  remains  of  a  chicken  bone  between  her 
paws. 

It  was  very  late,  for  the  Christmas-tree  was 
stripped,  the  little  folks  abed,  the  baskets  and  bun 
dles  left  at  poor  neighbors'  doors,  and  everything 
ready  for  the  happy  day  which  would  begin  as  the 
clock  struck  twelve.  They  were  resting  after  their 
labors,  while  the  yule  log  burned  down  ;  but  the 
mother's  words  reminded  Belinda  of  one  good 
friend  who  had  received  no  gift  that  night. 

"We've  forgotten  Rosa  !  Her  mistress  is  away, 
but  she  shall  have  a  present  nevertheless.  Late  as 


68  AUNT  JO'S  SCRAP-BAG. 

it  is,  she  will  like  some  apples  and  cake  and  a  Merry 
Christmas  from  the  family." 

Belinda  jumped  up  as  she  spoke,  and,  having 
collected  such  remnants  of  the  feast  as  a  horse 
would  relish,  she  put  on  her  hood,  lighted  a  lantern, 
and  trotted  off  to  the  barn. 

As  slie  opened  the  door  of  the  loose  box  in  which 
Rosa  was  kept,  she  saw  her  eyes  shining  in  the  dark 
as  she  lifted  her  head  with  a  startled  air.  Then, 
recognizing  a  friend,  she  rose  and  came  rustling 
through  the  straw  to  greet  her  late  visitor.  She 
was  evidently  much  pleased  with  the  attention,  and 
rubbed  her  nose  against  Miss  Belinda  gratefully, 
but  seemed  rather  dainty,  and  poked  over  the  con 
tents  of  the  basket,  as  if  a  little  suspicious,  though 
apples  were  her  favorite  treat. 

Knowing  that  she  would  enjoy  the  little  feast 
more  if  she  had  company  while  she  ate  it,  for  Rosa 
was  a  very  social  beast,  Miss  Belinda  hung  up  the 
lantern,  and,  sitting  down  on  an  inverted  bucket, 
watched  her  as  she  munched  contentedly. 

"  Now  really,"  said  Miss  Belinda,  when  telling  her 
story  afterwards,  "  I  am  not  sure  whether  I  took  a 


ROSA'S   TALE.  69 

nap  and  dreamed  what  follows,  or  whether  it  actu 
ally  happened,  for  strange  things  do  occur  at  Christ 
mas  time,  as  every  one  knows. 

"  As  I  sat  there  the  town  clock  struck  twelve,  and 
the  sound  reminded  me  of  the  legend  which  affirms 
that  all  dumb  animals  are,  endowed  with  speech 
for  one  hour  after  midnight  on  Christmas  ^ve,  in 
memory  of  the  animals  about  the  manger  when  the 
blessed  Child  was  born. 

"  1 1  wish  the  pretty  fancy  was  a  fact,  and  our  Rosa 
could  speak,  if  only  for  an  hour,  because  I  am  sure 
she  has  an  interesting  history,  and  I  long  to  know 
it.' 

"  I  said  this  aloud,  and  to  my  utter  amazement  the 
bay  mare  stopped  eating,  fixed  her  intelligent  eyes 
upon  my  face,  and  answered  in  a  language  I  under 
stood  perfectly  well,  — 

" c  You  shall  know  it,  for  whether  the  legend  is 
true  or  not  I  feel  as  if  I  could  confide  in  you  and 
tell  you  all  I  feel.  I  was  lying  awake  listening  to 
the  fun  in  the  house,  thinking  of  my  dear  mistress 
over  the  sea  and  feeling  very  sad,  for  I  heard  you 
say  I  was  to  be  sold.  That  nearly  broke  my  heart, 


70  AUNT  JO'S  SCRAP-BAG. 

for  no  one  has  ever  been  so  kind  to  me  as  Miss 
Merry,  and  nowhere  shall  I  be  taken  care  of, 
nursed,  and  loved  as  I  have  been  since  she  bought 
me.  I  know  I  am  getting  old,  and  stiff  in  the  knees, 
and  my  forefoot  is  lame,  and  sometimes  I  'm  cross 
when  my  shoulder  aches ;  but  I  do  try  to  be  a  pa 
tient,  grateful  beast.  I  've  got  fat  with  good  living, 
my  work  is  not  hard,  I  dearly  love  to  carry  those 
who  have  done  so  much  for  me,  and  I'll  tug  for 
them  till  I  die  in  harness,  if  they  will  only  keep 
me.' 

"  I  was  so  astonished  at  this  address  that  I  tumbled 
off  the  pail,  and  sat  among  the  straw  staring  up  at 
Rosa,  as  dumb  as  if  I  had  lost  the  power  she  had 
gained.  She  seemed  to  enjoy  my  surprise,  and 
added  to  it  by  letting  me  hear  a  genuine  horse 
laugh,  hearty,  shrill,  and  clear,  as  she  shook  her 
pretty  head,  and  went  on  talking  rapidly  in  the 
language  which  I  now  perceived  to  be  a  mixture  of 
English  and  the  peculiar  dialect  of  the  horse-country 
Gulliver  visited. 

" c  Thank  you  for  remembering  me  to-night,  and 
in  return  for  the  goodies  you  bring  I'll  tell  my 


ROSA'S   TALE.  71 

story  as  fast  as  I  can,  for  I  have  often  longed  to 
recount  the  trials  and  triumphs  of  my  life.  Miss 
Merry  came  last  Christmas  eve  to  bring  me  sugar, 
and  I  wanted  to  speak,  but  it  was  too  early  and  I 
could  not  say  a  word,  though  my  heart  was  full.' 

"  Rosa  paused  an  instant,  and  her  fine  eyes  dimmed 
as  if  with  tender  tears  at  the  recollection  of  the 
happy  year  which  had  followed  the  day  she  was 
bought  from  the  drudgery  of  a  livery-stable  to  be 
a  lady's  pet.  I  stroked  her  neck  as  she  stooped  to 
sniff  affectionately  at  my  hood,  and  said  eagerly,  — 

" '  Tell  away,  dear,  I  'm  full  of  interest,  and  under 
stand  every  word  you  say.' 

"  Thus  encouraged,  Rosa  threw  up  her  head,  and 
began  with  an  air  of  pride  which  plainly  proved, 
what  we  had  always  suspected,  that  she  belonged 
to  a  good  family. 

"  *  My  father  was  a  famous  racer,  and  I  am  very 
like  him ;  the  same  color,  spirit,  and  grace,  and  but 
for  the  cruelty  of  man  I  might  have  been  as  re 
nowned  as  he.  I  was  a  very  happy  colt,  petted  by 
my  master,  tamed  by  love,  and  never  struck  a  blow 
while  he  lived.  I  gained  one  race  for  him,  and 


72  A  UNT  JO  'S  SCRAP-BA G. 

promised  so  well  that  when  he  died  I  brought  a 
great  price.  I  mourned  for  him,  but  was  glad  to 
be  sent  to  my  new  owner's  racing-stable  and  made 
much  of,  for  people  predicted  that  I  should  be  an 
other  Goldsmith  Maid  or  Flora  Temple.  Ah,  how 
ambitious  and  proud  I  was  in  those  days !  Vain  of 
my  good  blood,  my  speed,  and  my  beauty  ;  for  indeed 
I  was  handsome  then,  though  you  may  find  it  hard 
to  believe  now.'  And  Rosa  sighed  regretfully  as 
she  stole  a  look  at  me,  and  took  the  attitude  which 
showed  to  advantage  the  fine  lines  about  her  head 
and  neck. 

"  c  I  do  not  find  it  hard,  for  we  have  always  said 
you  had  splendid  points  about  you.  Miss  Merry 
saw  them,  though  you  were  a  skeleton,  when  she 
bought  you ;  so  did  the  skilful  Cornish  blacksmith 
when  he  shod  you.  And  it  is  easy  to  see  that  you 
belong  to  a  good  family  by  the  way  you  hold  your 
head  without  a  check-rein  and  carry  your  tail  like  a 
plume,'  I  said,  with  a  look  of  admiration  which 
comforted  her  as  much  as  if  she  had  been  a  passee 
belle. 

" <  I  must  hurry  over  this  part  of  my  story,  because, 


ROSA'S   TALE.  73 

though  brilliant,  it  was  very  brief,  and  ended  in  a 
way  which  made  it  the  bitterest  portion  of  my  life,' 
continued  Rosa.  '  I  won  several  races,  and  great  fame 
was  predicted  for  me.  You  may  guess  how  high 
my  reputation  was  when  I  tell  you  that  before  my 

^ 

last  fatal  trial  thousands  were  bet  on  me,  and  my 
rival  trembled  in  his  shoes.  I  was  full  of  spirit, 
eager  to  show  my,  speed  and  sure  of  success. 
Alas,  how  little  I  knew  of  the  wickedness  of 
human  nature  then,  how  dearly  I  bought  the 
knowledge,  and  how  it  has  changed  my  whole 
life !  You  do  not  know  much  about  such  mat 
ters,  of  course,  and  I  won't  digress  to  tell  you  all 
the  tricks  of  the  trade ;  only  beware  of  jockeys  and 
never  bet. 

"  '  I  was  kept  carefully  out  of  every  one's  way  for 
weeks,  and  only  taken  out  for  exercise  by  my 
trainer.  Poor  Bill !  I  was  fond  of  him,  and  he  was 
so  good  to  me  that  I  never  have  forgotten  him, 
though  he  broke  his  neck  years  ago.  A  few  nights 
before  the  great  race,  as  I  was  getting  a  good  sleep, 
carefully  tucked  away  in  my  roomy  stall,  some  one 
stole  in  and  gave  me  a  warm  mash.  It  was  dark, 


74  AUNT  JO'S  SCRAP-BAG. 

I  was  half  awake,  and  I  ate  it  like  a  fool,  though  I 
knew  by  instinct  that  it  was  not  Bill  who  fed  it  to 
me.  I  was  a  confiding  creature  then,  and  as  all  sorts 
of  queer  things  had  been  done  to  prepare  me  I 
thought  it  was  all  right.  But  it  was  not,  and  that 
deceit  has  caused  me  to  be  suspicious  about  my 
food  ever  since,  for  the  mash  was  dosed  in  some 
way;  it  made  me  very  ill,  and  my  enemies  nearly 
triumphed,  thanks  to  this  cowardly  trick. 

"  *  Bill  worked  over  me  day  and  night,  that  I  might 
be  fit  to  run.  I  did  my  best  to  seem  well  and  gay, 
but  there  was  not  time  for  me  to  regain  my  lost 
strength  and  spirit,  and  pride  alone  kept  me  up. 
"  I  '11  win  for  my  master  if  I  die  in  doing  it,"  I  said 
to  myself,  and  when  the  hour  came  pranced  to  my 
place  trying  to  look  as  well  as  ever,  though  my 
heart  was  very  heavy  and  I  trembled  with  excite 
ment.  "  Courage,  my  lass,  and  we  '11  beat  in  spite 
of  their  black  tricks,"  whispered  Bill,  as  he  sprung  to 
his  place. 

" '  I  lost  the  first  heat,  but  won  the  second,  and  the 
sound  of  the  cheering  gave  me  strength  to  walk 
away  without  staggering,  though  my  legs  shook 


ROSA'S  TALE.  75 

under  me.  What  a  splendid  minute  that  was 
when,  encouraged  and  refreshed  by  my  faithful 
Bill,  I  came  on  the  track  again !  I  knew  my  ene 
mies  began  to  fear,  for  I  had  borne  myself  so 
bravely  they  fancied  I  was  quite  well,  and  now, 
excited  by  that  first  success,  I  was  mad  with  im 
patience  to  be  off  and  cover  myself  with  glory.' 

"  Rosa  looked  as  if  the  «  splendid  minute  '  had 
come  again,  for  she  arched  her  neck,  opened  wide 
her  red  nostrils,  and  pawed  the  straw  with  one  little 
foot,  while  her  eyes  shone  with  sudden  fire,  and  her 
ears  were  pricked  up  as  if  to  catch  again  the  shouts 
she  heard  that  day. 

"  *  I  wish  I  had  been  there  to  see  you ! '  I  exclaimed, 
quite  carried  away  by  her  ardor. 

"  '  I  wish  you  had,  for  I  won,  I  won  !  The  big 
black  horse  did  his  best,  but  I  had  vowed  to  win  or 
die,  and  I  kept  my  word,  for  I  beat  him  by  a  head, 
and  then  dropped  as  if  dead.  I  might  as  well  have 
died  then,  people  thought,  for  the  poison,  the  exer 
tion,  and  the  fall  ruined  me  for  a  racer.  My  master 
cared  no  more  for  me,  and  would  have  had  me  shot 
if  Bill  had  not  saved  my  life.  I  was  pronounced 


76*  AUNT  JO'S  SCRAP-BAG. 

good  for  nothing,  and  he  bought  me  cheap.  I  was 
lame  and  useless  for  a  long  time,  but  his  patient 
care  did  wonders,  and  just  as  I  was  able  to  be  of 
use  to  him  he  was  killed. 

" « A  gentleman  in  want  of  a  saddle-horse  purchased 
me  because  my  easy  gait  and  quiet  temper  suited 
him  ;  for  I  was  meek  enough  now,  and  my  size  fitted 
me  to  carry  his  delicate  daughter. 

"  '  For  more  than  a  year  I  served  little  Miss  Alice, 
rejoicing  to  see  how  rosy  her  pale  cheeks  became, 
how  upright  her  feeble  figure  grew,  thanks  to  the 
hours  spent  with  me  ;  for  my  canter  rocked  her  as 
gently  as  if  she  were  in  a  cradle,  and  fresh  air  was 
the  medicine  she  needed.  She  often  said  she  owed 
her  life  to  me,  and  I  liked  to  think  so,  for  she  made 
my  life  a  very  easy  one. 

" '  But  somehow  my  good  times  never  lasted  long, 
and  when  Miss  Alice^went  West  I  was  sold.  I  had 
been  so  well  treated  that  I  looked  as  handsome  and 
gay  as  ever,  though  my  shoulder  never  was  strong 
again,  and  I  often  had  despondent  moods,  longing  for 
the  excitement  of  the  race-course  with  the  instinct 
of  my  khu I;  so  I  was  glad  when,  attracted  by  my 


ROSA'S  TALE.  77 

spirit  and  beauty,  a  young  army  officer  bought  me 
and  I  went  to  the  war.  Ah !  you  never  guessed  that, 
did  you  ?  Yes,  I  did  my  part  gallantly  and  saved  my 
master's  life  more  than  once.  You  have  observed 
how  martial  music  delights  me,  but  you  don't  know 
that  it  is  because  it  reminds  me  of  the  proudest 
hour  of  my  life.  I  've  told  you  about  the  saddest ; 
let  me  relate  this  also,  and  give  me  a  pat  for  the 
brave  action  which  won  my  master  his  promotion, 
though  I  got  no  praise  for  my  part  of  the  achieve 
ment. 

" « In  one  of  the  hottest  battles  my  captain  was 
ordered  to  lead  his  men  to  a  most  perilous  exploit. 
They  hesitated,  so  did  he ;  for  it  must  cost  many 
lives,  and,  brave  as  they  were,  they  paused  an  instant. 
But  I  settled  the  point,  for  I  was  wild  with  the 
sound  of  drums,  the  smell  of  powder,  the  excitement 
of  the  hour,  and,  finding  myself  sharply  reined  in,  I 
rebelled,  took  the  bit  between  my  teeth,  and  dashed 
straight  away  into  the  midst  of  the  fight,  spite  of  all 
my  rider  could  do.  The  men  thought  their  captain 
led  them  on,  and  with  a  cheer  they  followed,  carry 
ing  all  before  them. 


78  AUNT  JO'S    SCRAP-BAG. 

" '  What  happened  just  after  that  I  never  could  re 
member,  except  that  I  got  a  wound  here  in  my  neck 
and  a  cut  on  my  flank ;  the  scar  is  there  still,  and 
I  'm  proud  of  it,  though  buyers  always  consider 
it  a  blemish.  But  when  the  battle  was  won  my 
master  was  promoted  on  the  field,  and  I  carried  him 
up  to  the  general  as  he  sat  among  his  officers 
under  the  torn  flags. 

" « Both  of  us  were  weary  and  wounded,  both  were 
full  of  pride  at  what  we  had  done ;  but  he  got  all 
the  praise  and  the  honor,  I  only  a  careless  word  and 
a  better  supper  than  usual. 

"CI  thought  no  one  knew  what  I  had  done,  and 
resented  the  ingratitude  of  your  race ;  for  it  was  the 
horse,  not  the  man,  who  led  that  forlorn  hope,  and  I 
did  think  I  should  have  a  rosette  at  least,  when 
others  got  stars  and  bars  for  far  less  dangerous 
deeds.  Never  mind,  my  master  knew  the  truth,  and 
thanked  me  for  my  help  by  keeping  me  always  with 
him  till  the  sad  day  when  he  was  shot  in  a  skirmish, 
and  lay  for  hours  with  none  to  watch  and  mourn 
over  him  but  his  faithful  horse. 

"  *  Then  I  knew  how  much  he  loved  and  thanked 


ROSA'S  TALE.  79 

me,  for  his  hand  stroked  me  while  it  had  the  strength, 
his  eye  turned  to  me  till  it  grew  too  dim  for  seeing, 
and  when  help  came,  among  the  last  words  he  whis 
pered  to  a  comrade  were  these,  "  Be  kind  to  Rosa 
and  send  her  safely  home;  she  has  earned  her 
rest." 

"  'I  had  earned  it,  but  I  did  not  get  it,  for  when 
I  was  sent  home  the  old  mother's  heart  was  broken 
at  the  loss  of  her  son,  and  she  did  not  live  long 
to  cherish  me.  Then  my  hard  times  began,  for  my 
next  owner  was  a  fast  young  man,  who  ill  used  me 
in  many  ways,  till  the  spirit  of  my  father  rose 
within  me,  and  I  gave  my  brutal  master  a  grand  run 
away  and  smash-up. 

"  c  To  tame  me  down,  I  was  sold  for  a  car  horse ; 
and  that  almost  killed  me,  for  it  was  dreadful  drudg 
ery  to  tug,  day  after  day,  over  the  hard  pavement 
with  heavy  loads  behind  me,  uncongenial  companions 
beside  me,  and  no  affection  to  cheer  my  life. 

" *  I  have  often  longed  to  ask  why  Mr.  Bergh  does 
not  try  to  prevent  such  crowds  from  piling  into"those 
cars ;  and  now  I  beg  you  to  do  what  you  can  to 
stop  such  an  unmerciful  abuse. 


80  AUNT  JO'S  SCRAP-BAG. 

"  '  In  snow-storms  it  was  awful,  and  more  than  one 
of  my  mates  dropped  dead  with  overwork  and  dis 
couragement.  I  used  to  wish  I  could  do  the  same, 

f 

for  my  poor  feet,  badly  shod,  became  so  lame  I 
could  hardly  walk  at  times,  and  the  constant  strain 
on  the  up  grades  brought  back  the  old  trouble  in 
my  shoulder  worse  than  ever. 

"  '  Why  they  did  not  kill  me  I  don't  know,  for  I 
was  a  miserable  creature  then ;  but  there  must  be 
something  attractive  about  me,  I  fancy,  for  people 
always  seem  to  think  me  worth  saving.  What  can 
it  be,  ma'am  ? ' 

" '  Now,  Rosa,  don't  be  affected ;  you  know  you  are 
a  very  engaging  little  animal,  and  if  you  live  to 
be  forty  will  still  have  certain  pretty  ways  about 
you,  that  win  the  hearts  of  women,  if  not  of  men. 
They  see  your  weak  points,  and  take  a  money 
view  of  the  case;  but  we  sympathize  with  your 
afflictions,  are  amused  with  your  coquettish  airs,  and 
like  your  affectionate  nature.  Now  hurry  up  and 
finish,  for  I  find  it  a  trifle  cold  out  here.' 

"  I  laughed  as  I  spoke,  for  Rosa  eyed  me  with  a 
sidelong  glance  and  gently  waved  the  docked  tail, 


ROSA  'S   TALE.  81 

M 

which  was  her  delight ;  for  the  sly  thing  liked  to  be 
flattered  and  was  as  fond  of  compliments  as  a  girl. 

" '  Many  thanks.  I  will  come  now  to  the  most  in 
teresting  portion  of  my  narrative.  As  I  was  saying, 
instead  of  knocking  me  on  the  head  I  was  packed  off 
to  New  Hampshire,  and  had  a  fine  rest  among  the 
green  hills,  with  a  dozen  or  so  of  weary  friends. 
It  was  during  this  holiday  that  I  acquired  the  love  of 
nature  which  Miss  Merry  detected  and  liked  in  me, 
when  she  found  me  ready  to  study  sunsets  with  her, 
to  admire  new  landscapes,  and  enjoy  bright  summer 
weather. 

"  *  In  the  autumn  a  livery-stable  keeper  bought  me, 
and  through  the  winter  fed  me  up  till  I  was  quite 
presentable  in  the  spring.  It  was  a  small  town,  but 
through  the  summer  many  city  people  visited  there, 
so  I  was  kept  on  the  trot  while  the  season  lasted,  be 
cause  ladies  could  drive  me.  You,  Miss  Belinda, 
were  one  of  the  ladies,  and  I  never  shall  forget, 
though  I  have  long  ago  forgiven  it,  how  you  laughed 
at  my  queer  gait  the  day  you  hired  me. 

"  « My  tender  feet  and  stiff  knees  made  me  tread 
very  gingerly,  and  amble  along  with  short  mincing 
6 


82  AUNT  JO'S  SCRAP-BAG. 

steps,  which  contrasted  oddly,  I  know,  with  my 
proudly  waving  tail  and  high-carried  head.  You  liked 
me  nevertheless,  because  I  didn't  rattle  you  down  the 
steep  hills,  was  not  afraid  of  locomotives,  and  stood 
patiently  while  you  gathered  flowers  and  enjoyed 
the  lovely  prospects. 

" '  I  have  always  felt  a  regard  for  you  since  you  did 
not  whip  me,  and  admired  my  eyes,  which,  I  may 
say  without  vanity,  have  always  been  considered 
unusually  fine.  But  no  one  ever  won  my  whole 
heart  like  Miss  Merry,  and  I  never  shall  forget  the 
happy  day  when  she  came  to  the  stable  to  order  a 
saddle-horse.  Her  cheery  voice  made  me  prick  up  my 
ears,  and  when  she  said,  after  looking  at  several  showy 
beasts,  "  No,  they  don't  suit  me.  This  one  now  has 
the  right  air;  can  I  ride  her?"  my  heart  danced 
within  me  and  I  looked  round  with  a  whinny  of 
delight.  She  understood  my  welcome,  and  came 
right  up  to  me,  patted  me,  peered  into  my  face, 
rubbed  my  nose,  and  looked  at  my  feet  with  an  air 
of  interest  and  sympathy,  that  made  me  feel  as  if 
I  'd  like  to  carry  her  round  the  world. 

" c  Ah,  what  rides  we  had  after  that !    What  happy 


ROSA'S   TALE.  83 

hours  trotting  gayly  through  the  green  woods,  gallop 
ing  over  the  breezy  hills,  or  pacing  slowly  along 
quiet  lanes,  where  I  often  lunched  luxuriously  on 
clover-tops,  while  Miss  Merry  took  a  sketch  of  some 
picturesque  bit  with  me  in  the  foreground. 

" '  I  liked  that,  and  we  had  long  chats  at  such  times, 
for  she  seemed  to  understand  me  perfectly.  She 
was  never  frightened  when  I  danced  for  pleasure  on 
the  soft  turf,  never  chid  me  when  I  snatched  a  bite 
from  the  young  trees  as  we  passed  through  sylvan 
ways,  never  thought  it  a  trouble  to  let  me  wet  my 
tired  feet  in  babbling  brooks,  or  to  dismount  and 
take  out  the  stones  that  plagued  me. 

" '  Then  how  well  she  rode  !  So  firm  yet  light  a 
seat,  so  steady  a  hand,  so  agile  a  foot  to  spring  on 
and  off,  and  such  infectious  spirits,  that  no  matter 
how  despondent  or  cross  I  might  be,  in  five  minutes 
I  felt  gay  and  young  again  when  dear  Miss  Merry 
was  on  my  back.' 

"  Here  Rosa  gave  a  frisk  that  sent  the  straw  flying, 
and  made  me  shrink  into  a  corner,  while  she  pranced 
about  the  box-  with  a  neigh  which  waked  the  big 
brown  colt  next  door,  and  set  poor  Buttercup  to  low- 


84  AUNT  JO'S  SCRAP-BAG. 

ing  for  her  calf,  the  loss  of  which  she  had  forgotten 
for  a  little  while  in  sleep. 

" *  Ah,  Miss  Merry  never  ran  away  from  me  !  She 
knew  my  heels  were  to  be  trusted,  and  she  let  me 
caper  as  I  would,  glad  to  see  me  lively.  Never 
mind,  Miss  Belinda,  come  out  and  I'll  be  sober,  as 
befits  my  years,'  laughed  Rosa,  composing  herself, 
and  adding,  so  like  a  woman  that  I  could  not  help 
smiling  in  the  dark,  — 

" c  When  I  say  "  years  "  I  beg  you  to  understand 
that  I  am  not  as  old  as  that  base  man  declared,  but 
just  in  the  prime  of  life  for  a  horse.  Hard  usage 
has  made  me  seem  old  before  my  time,  and  I  am 
good  for  years  of  service  yet.' 

" l  Few  people  have  been  through  as  much  as  you 
have,  Rosa,  and  you  certainly  have  earned  the  right 
to  rest,'  I  said  consolingly,  for  her  little  whims  and 
vanities  amused  me  much. 

"  « You  know  what  happened  next,'  she  continued  ; 
'but  I  must  seize  this  opportunity  to  express  my 
thanks  for  all  the  kindness  I  've  received  since  Miss 
Merry  bought  me,  in  spite  of  the  ridicule  and  dis 
suasion  of  all  her  friends. 


ROSA  >S   TALE.  85 

"  *  I  know  I  didn't  look  like  a  good  bargain,  for  I 
was  very  thin  and  lame  and  shabby  ;  but  she  saw  and 
loved  the  willing  spirit  in  me,  pitied  my  hard  lot,  and 
felt  that  it  would  be  a  good  deed  to  buy  me  even  if 
she  never  got  much  work  out  of  me. 

" '  I  shall  always  remember  that,  and  whatever  hap 
pens  to  me  hereafter,  I  never  shall  be  as  proud  again 
as  I  was  the  day  she  put  my  new  saddle  and  bridle 
on,  and  I  was  led  out,  sleek,  plump,  and  handsome, 
with  blue  rosettes  at  my  ears,  my  tail  cut  in  the  Eng 
lish  style,  and  on  my  back  Miss  Merry  in  her  Lon 
don  hat  and  habit,  all  ready  to  head  a  cavalcade  of 
eighteen  horsemen  and  horsewomen.  We  were  the 
most  perfect  pair  of  all,  and  when  the  troop  caracoled 
down  the  wide  street  six  abreast,  my  head  was  the 
highest,  my  rider  the  straightest,  and  our  two  hearts 
the  friendliest  in  all  the  goodly  company. 

"  *  Nor  is  it  pride  and  love  alone  that  binds  me  to 
her,  it  is  gratitude  as  well,  for  did  not  she  often 
bathe  my  feet  herself,  rub  me  down,  water  me,  blan 
ket  me,  and  daily  come  to  see  me  when  I  was  here 
alone  for  weeks  in  the  winter  time  ?  Didn't  she  study 
horses'  feet  and  shoes,  that  I  might  be  cured  if  pos- 


86  A  UNT  JO  >S  SCRAP-BA  G. 

sible  ?  Didn't  she  write  to  the  famous  friend  of  my 
race  for  advice,  and  drive  me  seven  miles  to  get  a 
good  smith  to  shoe  me  well  ?  Have  not  m^  poor 
contracted  feet  grown  much  better,  thanks  to  the 
weeks  of  rest  without  shoes  which  she  gave  me? 
Am  I  not  fat  and  handsome,  and,  barring  the  stiff 
knees,  a  very  presentable  horse  ?  If  I  am,  it  is  all 
owing  to  her ;  and  for  that  reason  I  want  to  live  and 
die  in  her  service. 

" '  She  doesn't  want  to  sell  me,  and  only  bade  you 
do  it  because  you  didn't  want  the  care  of  me  while  she 
is  gone.  Dear  Miss  Belinda,  please  keep  me!  I'll 
eat  as  little  as  I  can.  I  won't  ask  for  a  new  blanket, 
though  your  old  army  one  is  very  thin  and  shabby. 
I  '11  trot  for  you  all  winter,  and  try  not  to  show  it  if  I 
am  lame.  I  '11  do  anything  a  horse  can,  no  matter 
how  humble,  to  earn  my  living,  only  don't,  pray 
don't  send  me  away  amori^  strangers  who  have 
neither  interest  nor  pity  for  me ! ' 

"  Rosa  had  spoken  rapidly,  feeling  that  her  plea 
must  be  made  now  or  never,  for  before  another 
Christmas  she  might  be  far  away  and  speech  of  no 
use  to  win  her  wish.  I  was  much  touched,  though 


ROSA'S   TALE.  87 

she  was  only  a  horse ;  for  she  was  looking  earnestly 
at  me  as  she  spoke,  and  made  the  last  words  very 
eloquent  by  preparing  to  bend  her  stiff  knees  and 
lie  down  at  my  feet.  I  stopped  her,  and  answered, 
with  an  arm  about  her  neck  and  her  soft  nose  in  my 
hand, — 

" '  You  shall  not  be  sold,  Rosa !  you  shall  go  and 
board  at  Mr.  Town's  great  stable,  where  you  will 
have  pleasant  society  among  the  eighty  horses  who 
usually  pass  the  winter  there.     Your  shoes  shall  be 
taken  off,  and  you  shall  rest  till  March  at  least. 
The  best  care  will  be  taken  of  you,  dear,  and  I  wir 
come  and  see  you ;  and  in  the  spring  you  shall  re 
turn  to  us,  even  if  Miss  Merry  is  not  here  to  wel 
come  you.' 

"  « Thanks,  many,  many  thanks !  But  I  wish  I 
could  do  something  to  earn  my  board.  I  hate  to  be 
idle,  though  rest  is  delicious.  Is  there  nothing  I 
can  do  to  repay  you,  Miss  Belinda  ?  Please  answer 
quickly,  for  I  know  the  hour  is  almost  over,'  cried 
Rosa,  stamping  with  anxiety ;  for,  like  all  her  sex,  she 
wanted  the  last  word. 

"  '  Yes,  you  can,'  I  cried,  as  a  sudden  idea  popped 


88  AUNT  JO'S  SCRAP-BAG. 

into  my  head.  'I'll  write  down  what  you  have 
told  me,  and  send  the  little  story  to  a  certain  paper 
I  know  of,  and  the  money  I  get  for  it  will  pay  your 
board.  So  rest  in  peace,  my  dear ;  you  will  have 
earned  your  living,  and  may  feel  that  your  debt  is 
paid.' 

"  Before  she  could  reply  the  clock  struck  one,  and  a 
long  sigh  of  satisfaction  was  all  the  response  in  her 
power.  But  we  understood  each  other  now,  and, 
cutting  a  lock  from  her  mane  for  Miss  Merry,  I 
gave  Rosa  a  farewell  caress  and  went  away,  wonder- 
hig  if  I  had  made  it  all  up,  or  if  she  had  really  broken 
a  year's  silence  and  freed  her  mind. 

"  However  that  may  be,  here  is  the  tale,  and  the 
sequel  to  it  is,  that  the  bay  mare  has  really  gone  to 
board  at  a  first-class  stable,"  concluded  Miss  Be 
linda.  "I  call  occasionally  and  leave  my  card  in 
the  shape  of  an  apple,  findkig  Madam  Rosa  living 
like  an  independent  lady,  with  her  large  box  and 
private  yard  on  the  sunny  side  of  the  barn,  a  kind 
ostler  to  wait  upon  her,  and  much  genteel  society 
from  the  city  when  she  is  inclined  for  company. 

"  What  more  could  any  reasonable  horse  desire  ?  " 


VI. 

LUNCH. 

"  OISTER  Jerusha,  it  really  does  wear  upon  me 
to  see  those  dear  boys  eat  such  bad  pies  and 
stuff  day  after  day  when  they  ought  to  have  good 
wholesome  things  for  lunch.  I  actually  ache  to  go 
and  give  each  one  of  'em  a  nice  piece  of  bread-and- 
butter  or  one  of  our  big  cookies,"  said  kind  Miss  Me- 
hitable  Plummer,  taking  up  her  knitting  after  a  long 
look  at  the  swarm  of  boys  pouring  out  of  the  gram 
mar  school  opposite,  to  lark  about  the  yard,  sit  on 
the  posts,  or  dive  into  a  dingy  little  shop  close  by, 
where  piles  of  greasy  tarts  and  cakes  lay  in  the 
window.  They  would  not  have  allured  any  but  hun 
gry  school-boys,  and  ought  to  have  been  labelled  Dys 
pepsia  and  Headache,  so  unwholesome  were  they. 

Miss  Jerusha  looked  up  from  her  seventeenth 
patchwork  quilt,  and  answered,  with  a  sympathetic 
glance  over  the  way,  — 


90  AUNT  JO'S  SCRAP-BAG. 

"  If  we  had  enough  to  go  round  I  'd  do  it  myself, 
and  save  these  poorTdeluded  dears  from  the  bilious 
turns  that  will  surely  take  them  down  before  vaca 
tion  comes.  That  fat  boy  is  as  yellow  as  a  lemon 
now,  and  no  wonder,  for  I  Ve  seen  him  eat  half  a 
dozen  dreadful  turnovers  for  one  lunch." 

Both  old  ladies  shook  their  heads  and  sighed,  for 
they  led  a  very  quiet  life  in  the  narrow  house  that 
stood  end  to  the  street,  squeezed  in  between  two 
stores,  looking  as  out  of  place  as  the  good  spinsters 
would  have  done  among  the  merry  lads  opposite. 
Sitting  at  the  front  windows  day  after  day,  the  old 
ladies  had  learned  to  enjoy  watching  the  boys,  who 
came  and  went,  like  bees  to  a  hive,  month  by  month. 
They  had  their  favorites,  and  beguiled  many  a  long 
hour  speculating  on  the  looks,  manners,  and  proba 
ble  station  of  the  lads.  One  lame  boy  was  Miss 
Jerusha.'s  pet,  though  she  never  spoke  to  him,  and  a 
tall  bright-faced  fellow,  who  rather  lorded  it  over 
the  rest,  quite  won  Miss  Hetty's  old  heart  by  help 
ing  her  across  the  street  on  a  slippery  day.  They 
longed  to  mend  some  of  the  shabby  clothes,  to  cheer 
up  the  dull  discouraged  ones,  advise  the  sickly, 


LUNCH.  91 

reprove  the  rude,  and,  most  of  all,  feed  those  who 
persisted  in  buying  lunch  at  .the  dirty  bake-shop 
over  the  way. 

The  good  souls  were  famous  cooks,  and  had  many 
books  full  of  all  manner  of  nice  receipts,  which  they 
seldom  used,  as  they  lived  simply  and  saw  little 
company.  A  certain  kind  of  molasses  cookie  made 
by  their  honored  mother,  —  a  renowned  housewife 
in  her  time,  —  and  eaten  by  the  sisters  as  children, 
had  a  peculiar  charm  for  them.  A  tin  box  was 
always  kept  full,  though  they  only  now  and  then 
nibbled  one,  and  preferred  to  give  them  away  to 
poor  children,  as  they  trotted  to  market  each  day. 
Many  a  time  had  Miss  Hetty  felt  sorely  tempted  to 
treat  the  boys,  but  was  a  little  timid,  for  they  were 
rough  fellows,  and  she  regarded  them  much  as  a 
benevolent  tabby  would  a  party  of  frisky  puppies. 

To-day  the  box  was  full  of  fresh  cookies,  crisp, 
brown,  and  sweet;  their  spicy  odor  pervaded  the 
room,  and  the  china-closet  door  stood  suggestively 
open.  Miss  Hetty's  spectacles  turned  that  way, 
then  went  back  to  the  busy  scene  in  the  street, 
as  if  trying  to  get  courage  for  the  deed.  Something 


92  AUNT  JO'S  SCRAP-BAG. 

happened  just  then  which  decided  her,  and  sealed 
the  doom  of  the  biliqus  tarts  and  their  maker. 

Several  of  the  younger  lads  were  playing  marbles 
on  the  sidewalk,  for  Hop  Scotch,  Leap  Frog,  and 
friendly  scuffles  were  going  on  in  the  yard,  and  no 
quiet  spot  could  be  found.  The  fat  boy  sat  on  a 
post  near  by,  and,  having  eaten  his  last  turnover,  fell 
to  teasing  the  small  fellows  peacefully  playing  at 
his  feet.  One  was  the  shabby  lame  boy,  who  hopped 
to  and  fro  with  his  crutch,  munching  a  dry  cracker, 
with  now  and  then  a  trip  to  the  pump  to  wash  it 
down.  He  seldom  brought  any  lunch,  and  seemed 
to  enjoy  this  poor  treat  so  much  that  the  big  bright- 
faced  chap  tossed  him  a  red  apple  as  he  came  out  of 
the  yard  to  get  his  hat,  thrown  there  by  the  mate 
he  had  been  playfully  thrashing. 

The  lame  child  eyed  the  pretty  apple  lovingly, 
and  was  preparing  to  take  the  first  delicious  bite, 
when  the  fat  youth  with  a  dexterous  kick  sent  it 
flying  into  the  middle  of  the  street,  where  a  passing 
wheel  crushed  it  down  into  the  mud. 

"  It's  a  shame  !  He  shall  have  something  good  ! 
The  scamp ! "  And  with  this  somewhat  confused 


LUNCH.  93 

exclamation  Miss  Hetty  threw  down  her  work,  ran 
to  the  closet,  then  darted  to  the  front  door,  embrac 
ing  the  tin  box,  as  if  the  house  was  on  fire  and  that 
contained  her  dearest  treasures. 

"  Sakes  alive,  what  is  the  matter  with  sister  ?  " 
ejaculated  Miss  Jerusha,  going  to  the  window  just 
in  time  to  see  the  fat  boy  tumble  off  the  post  as  the 
tall  lad  came  to  the  rescue,  while  the  cripple  went 
hopping  across  the  street  in  answer  to  a  kindly 
quavering  voice  that  called  out  to  him,  — 

"  Come  here,  boy,  and  get  a  cookie,  —  a  dozen 
if  you  want  'em."  ., 

"  Sister 's  done  it  at  last ! "  And,  inspired  by  this 
heroic  example,  Miss  Jerusha  threw  up  the  window, 
saying,  as  she  beckoned  to  the  avenger,  — 

"  You  too,  because  you  stood  by.  that  poor  little 
boy.  Come  right  over  and  help  yourself." 

Charley  Howe  laughed  at  the  indignant  old  ladies, 
but,  being  a  gentleman,  took  off  his  hat  and  ran 
across  to  thank  them  for  their  interest  in  the  fray. 
Several  other  lads  followed  as  irresistibly  as  flies  to 
a  honey-pot,  for  the  tin  box  was  suggestive  of  cake, 
and  they  waited  for  no  invitation. 


94  A  UNT  JO  'S  SCRAP-BA  G. 

Miss  Hetty  was  truly  a  noble  yet  a  droll  sight,  as 
she  stood  there,  a  trim  little  old  lady,  with  her  cap- 
strings  flying  in  the  wind,  her  rosy  old  face  shining 
with  good-will,  as  she  dealt  out  cookies  with  a  lav 
ish  hand,  and  a  kind  word  to  all. 

"  Here 's  a  nice  big  one  for  you,  my  dear.  I  don't 
know  your  name,  but  I  do  your  face,  and  I  like 
to  see  a  big  boy  stand  up  for  the  little  ones,"  she 
said,  beaming  at  Charley  as  he  came  up. 

"  Thank  you,  ma'am.  That 's  a  splendid  one. 
We  don't  get  anything  so  nice  over  there."  And 
Charley  gratefully  bolted  the  cake  in  three  mouth- 
fuls,  having  given  away  his  own  lunch. 

"No,  indeed!  One  of  these  is  worth  a  dozen  of 
those  nasty  pies.  I  hate  to  see  you  eating  them,  and 
I  don't  believe  your  mothers  know  how  bad  they 
are,"  said  Miss  Hetty,  diving  for  another  handful 
into  the  depths  of  the  box,  which  was  half  empty 
already. 

"  Wish  you  'd  teach  old  Peck  how  you  make  'em. 
We'd  be  glad  enough  to  buy  these  and  let  the 
cockroach  pies  alone,"  said  Charley,  accepting 
another  and  enjoying  the  fun,  for  half  the  fellows 
were  watching  the  scene  from  over  the  way. 


LUNCH.  95 

"  Cockroach  pies  !  You  don't  mean  to  say  ?  " 
cried  Miss  Hetty,  nearly  dropping  her  load  in  her 
horror  at  the  idea,  for  she  had  heard  of  fricasseed 
frogs  and  roasted  locusts,  and  thought  a  new 
delicacy  had  been  found. 

"  We  find  'em  in  the  apple-sauce  sometimes,  and 
nails  and  bits  of  barrel  in  the  cake,  so  some  of  us 
don't  patronize  Peck,"  replied  Charley ;  and  little 
Briggs  the  cripple  added  eagerly,  — 

"  I  never  do ;  my  mother  won't  let  me." 

*'  He  never  has  any  money,  that's  why,"  bawled 
Dickson,  the  fat  boy,  dodging  behind  the  fence  as 
he  spoke. 

"  Never  you  mind,  sonny,  you  come  here  every 
day,  and  Pll  see  that  you  have  a  good  lunch. 
Apples  too,  red  ones,  if  you  like  them,  with  your 
cake,"  answered  Miss  Hetty,  patting  his  head  and 
sending  an  indignant  glance  across  the  street. 

"  Cry-baby !  Molly-coddle  !  Grandma's  darling !" 
jeered  Dickson,  and  then  fled,  for  Charley  fired  a 
ball  at  him  with  such  good  aim  it  narrowly  escaped 
his  nose. 

"  That  boy  will  have  the  jaundice  as  sure  as  fate, 


96  AUNT  JO'S  SCRAP-BAG. 

and  he  deserves  it,"  said  Miss  Hetty,  sternly,  as  she 
dropped  the  lid  on  the  now  empty  box ;  for  while 
she  was  talking  the  free-and-easy  young  gentlemen 
had  been  helping  themselves. 

"  Thank  you  very  much,  ma'am,  for  my  cookie.  I 
won't  forget  to  call  to-morrow."  And  little  Briggs 
shook  hands  with  as  innocent  a  face  as  if  his  jacket 
pocket  was  not  bulging  in  a  most  suspicious 
manner. 

"You'll  get  your  death  a  cold,  Hetty,"  called 
Miss  Jerusha,  and,  taking  the  hint,  Charley  promptly 
ended  the  visit. 

"  Sheer  off,  fellows.  We  are  no  end  obliged, 
ma'am,  and  I'll  see  that  Briggs  isn't  put  upon  by 
sneaks." 

Then  the  boys  ran  off,  and  the  old  lady  retired  to 
her  parlor  to  sink  into  her  easy-chair,  as  much  ex 
cited  by  this  little  feat  as  if  she  had  led  a  forlorn 
hope  to  storm  a  battery. 

"  I  '11  fill  both  those  big  tins  to-morrow,  and  treat 
every  one  of  the  small  boys,  if  I'm  spared,"  she 
panted,  with  a  decided  nod,  as  she  settled  her  cap 
and  composed  her  neat  black  skirts,  with  which  the 
wind  had  taken  liberties,  as  she  stood  on  the  steps. 


LUNCH.  97 

"  I  'm  not  sure  it  isn't  our  duty  to  make  and  sell 
good,  wholesome  lunches  to  those  boys.  We  can 
afford  to  do  it  cheap,  and  it  wouldn't  be  much 
trouble.  Just  put  the  long  table  across  the  front 
entry  for  half  an  hour  every  day,  and  let  them  come 
and  get  a  bun,  a  cookie,  or  a  buttered  biscuit.  It 
could  be  done,  sister,"  said  Miss  Jerusha,  longing 
to  distinguish  herself  in  some  way  also. 

"  It  shall  be  done,  sister ! "  And  Miss  Hetty 
made  up  her  mind  at  that  moment  to  devote  some 
of  her  time  and  skill  to  rescuing  those  blessed  boys 
from  the  unprincipled  Peck  and  his  cockroach 
pies. 

It  was  pleasant,  as  well  as  droll,  to  see  how  heartily 
the  good  souls  threw  themselves  into  the  new  enter 
prise,  how  bravely  they  kept  each  other  up  when 
courage  showed  signs  of  failing,  and  how  rapidly 
they  became  convinced  that  it  was  a  duty  to  pro 
vide  better  food  for  the  future  defenders  and  rulers 
of  their  native  land. 

"  You  can't  expect  the  dears  to  study  with  clear 
heads  if  they  are  not  fed  properly,  and  half  the 

women  in  the  world  never  think  that  what  goes 
7 


98  A  UST  JO 'S  SCRAP-BA G. 

into  children's  stomachs  affects  their  brains,"  de 
clared  Miss  Hetty,  as  she  rolled  out  vast  sheets  of 
dough  next  day,  emphasizing  her  remarks  with  vig 
orous  flourishes  of  the  rolling-pin. 

"  Our  blessed  mother  understood  how  to  feed  a 
family.  Fourteen  stout  boys  and  girls,  all  alive 
and  well,  and  you  and  I  as  smart  at  seventy  one 
and  two,  as  most  folks  at  forty.  Good,  plain  vict 
uals  and  plenty  of  'em  is  the  secret  of  firm  health," 
responded  Miss  Jerusha,  rattling  a  pan  of  buns 
briskly  into  the  oven. 

u  We  'd  better  make  some  Brighton  Rock.  It  is 
gone  out  of  fashion,  but  our  brothers  used  to  be 
dreadful  fond  of  it,  and  boys  are  about  alike  all  the 
world  over.  Ma's  resale  never  fails,  and  it  will  be 
a  new  treat  for  the  little  dears." 

"S'pose  we  have  an  extra  can  of  milk  left  and 
give  'em  a  good  mugful  ?  Some  of  those  poor  things 
look  as  if  they  never  got  a  drop.  Peck  sells  beer, 
and  milk  is  a  deal  better.  Shall  we,  sister  ?  " 

4i  We'll  try  it,  Jerushy.  In  for  a  penny,  in  for  a 
pound." 

And  upon  that  principle  the  old  ladies  did  the 


LUNCH.  99 

thing  handsomely,  deferring  the  great  event  till 
Monday,  that  all  might  be  in  apple-pie  order.  They 
said  nothing  of  it  when  the  lads  came  on  Friday 
morning,  and  all  Saturday,  which  was  a  holiday  at 
school,  was  a  very  busy  one  with  them. 

"Hullo!  Miss  Hetty  has  done  it  now,  hasn't 
she?  Look  at  that,  old  Peck,  and  tremble!"  ex 
claimed  Charley  to  his  mates,  as  he  came  down  the 
street  on  Monday  morning,  and  espied  a  neat  little 
sign  on  the  sisters'  door,  setting  forth  the  agreeable 
fact  that  certain  delectable  articles  of  food  and 
drink  could  be  had  within  at  reasonable  prices 
during  recess. 

Xo  caps  were  at  the  windows,  but  behind  the 
drawn  curtains  two  beaming  old  faces  were  peep 
ing  out  to  see  how  the  boys  took  the  great 
announcement.  Whoever  remembers  Hawthorne's 
half-comic,  half-pathetic  description  of  poor  Hep- 
sibah  Pyncheon's  hopes  and  fears,  when  arranging 
her  gingerbread  wares  in  the  little  shop,  can  under 
stand  something  of  the  excitement  of  the  sisters 
that  day,  as  the  time  drew  near  when  the  first 
attempt  was  to  be  made. 


100  AUNT  JO'S  SCRAP-BAG. 

"Who  will  set  the  door  open?"  said  Miss  Hetty 
when  the  fateful  moment  came,  and  boys  began  to 
pour  out  into  the  yard. 

"I  will!"  And,  nerving  herself  to  the  task,  Miss 
Jerusha  inarched  boldly  round  the  table,  set  wide 
the  door,  and  then,  as  the  first  joyful  whoop  from 
the  boys  told  that  the  feast  was  in  view,  she  whisked 
back  into  the  parlor  panic-stricken. 

"There  they  come,  —  hundreds  of  them,  I  should 
think  by  the  sound!"  she  whispered,  as  the  tramp 
of  feet  came  nearer,  and  the  clamor  of  voices  ex 
claiming, — 

"  What  bully  buns  !  "  "  Ain't  those  cookies 
rousers?"  "New  stuff  too,  looks  first-rate."  "I 
told  you  it  wasn't  a  joke."  "  Wonder  how  Peck 
likes  it?"  "Dickson  sha'n't  come  in."  "You  go 
first,  Charley."  "  litre 's  a  cent  for  you,  Briggs ; 
come  on  and  trade  like  the  rest  of  us." 

"I'm  so  flurried  I  couldn't  make  change  to  save 
my  life,"  gasped  Miss  Jerusha  from  behind  the  sofa, 

% 

whither  she  had  fled. 

"  It  is  my  turn  now.  Be  calm,  and  we  shall  soon 
get  used  to  it." 


LUNCH.  101 

Bracing  herself  to  meet  the  merry  chaff  of  the 
boys,  as  new  and  trying  to  the  old  lady  as  real 
danger  would  have  been,  Miss  Hetty  stepped  forth 
into  the  hall  to  be  greeted  by  a  cheer,  and  then  a 
chorus  of  demands  for  everything  so  temptingly  set 
forth  upon  her  table.  Intrenched  behind  a  barri 
cade  of  buns,  she  dealt  out  her  wares  with  rapidly 
increasing  speed  and  skill,  for  as  fast  as  one  relay  of 
lads  were  satisfied  another  came  up,  till  the  table 
was  bare,  the  milk-can  ran  dry,  and  nothing  was 
left  to  tell  the  tale  but  an  empty  water-pail  and  a 
pile  of  five-cent  pieces. 

"I  hope  I  didn't  cheat  any  one,  but  I  was 
flurried,  sister,  they  were  so  very  noisy  and  so 
hungry.  Bless  their  dear  hearts  ;  they  are  full  now, 
I  trust."  And  Miss  Hetty  looked  over  her  glasses 
at  the  crumby  countenances  opposite,  meeting  many 
nods  and  smiles  in  return,  as  her  late  customers 
enthusiastically  recommended  her  establishment  to 
the  patronage  of  those  who  had  preferred  Peck's 
questionable  dainties. 

"The  Brighton  Rock  was  a  success;  we  must 
have  a  good  store  for  to-morrow,  and  more  milk. 


102  AUNT  JO'S  SCRAP-BAG. 

Briggs  drank  it  like  a  baby,  and  your  nice  boy  pro 
posed  my  health  like  a  little  gentleman,  as  he  is," 
replied  Miss  Jerusha,  who  had  ventured  out  before 
it  was  too  late,  and  done  the  honors  of  the  can  with 
great  dignity,  in  spite  of  some  inward  trepidation  at 
the  astonishing  feats  performed  with  the  mug. 

"  Peck's  nose  is  out  of  joint,  if  I  may  use  so 
vulgar  an  expression,  and  our  lunch  a  triumphant 
success.  Boys  know  what  is  good,  and  we  need  not 
fear  to  lose  their  custom  as  long  as  we  can  supply 
them.  I  shall  order  a  barrel  of  flour  at  once,  and 
heat  up  the  big  oven.  We  have  put  our  hand  to 
the  work  and  must  not  turn  back,  for  our  honor  is 
pledged  now." 

With  which  lofty  remark  Miss  Hetty  closed  the 
door,  trying  to  look  utterly  unconscious  of  the 
anxious  Peck,  who  was  flattening  his  nose  against 
his  dingy  window-pane  to  survey  his  rivals  over 
piles  of  unsold  pastry. 

The  little  venture  was  a  success,  and  all  that  win 
ter  the  old*  ladies  did  their  part  faithfully,  finding 
the  task  more  to  their  taste  than  everlasting  patch 
work  and  knitting,  and  receiving  a  fair  profit  on 


LUNCH.  103 

their  outlay,  being  shrewd  managers,  and  rich  in 
old-fashioned  thrift,  energy,  and  industry. 

The  boys  revelled  in  wholesome  fare,  and  soon 
learned  to  love  "  the  Aunties,"  as  they  were  called, 
while  such  of  the  parents  as  took  an  interest  in  the 
matter  showed  their  approval  in  many  ways  most 
gratifying  to  the  old  ladies. 

The  final  triumph,  however,  was  the  closing  of 
Peck's  shop  for  want  of  custom,  for  few  besides  the 
boys  patronized  him.  None  mourned  for  him,  and 
Dickson  proved  the  truth  of  Miss  Hetty's  prophecy 
by  actually  having  a  bilious  fever  in  the  spring. 

But  a  new  surprise  awaited  the  boys ;  for  when 
they  came  flocking  back  after  the  summer  vacation, 
there  stood  the  little  shop,  brave  in  new  paint  and 
fittings,  full  of  all  the  old  goodies,  and  over  the  door 
a  smart  sign,  "  Plummer  &  Co." 

"  By  Jove,  the  Aunties  are  bound  to  cover  them 
selves  with  glory.  Let 's  go  in  and  hear  all  about 
it.  Behave  now,  you  fellows,  or  I'll  see  about  it 
afterward,"  commanded  Charley,  as  he  paused  to 
peer  in  through  the  clean  windows  at  the  tempting 
display. 


104  AUNT  JO'S  SCRAP-BAG. 

In  they  trooped,  and,  tapping  on  the  counter,  stood 
ready  to  greet  the  old  ladies  as  usual,  but  to  their 
great  surprise  a  pretty  young  woman  appeared,  and 
smilingly  asked  what  they  would  have. 

"  We  want  the  Aunties,  if  you  please.  Isn't  this 
their  shop  ?  "  said  little  Briggs,  bitterly  disappointed 
at  not  finding  his  good  friends. 

"  You  will  find  them  over  there  at  home  as  usual. 
Yes,  this  is  their  shop,  and  I  'm  their  niece.  My 
husband  is  the  Co.,  and  we  run  the  shop  for  the 
aunts.  I  hope  you'll  patronize  us,  gentlemen." 

"  We  will !  we  will !  Three  cheers  for  Plummer 
&  Co.!"  cried  Charley,  leading  off  three  rousers, 
that  made  the  little  shop  ring  again,  and  brought 
two  caps  to  the  opposite  windows,  as  two  cheery  old 
faces  smiled  and  nodded,  full  of  satisfaction  at  the 
revolution  so  successfully  planned  and  carried  out. 


vn. 

A  BRIGHT  IDEA. 

"1VTO  answer  to  my  advertisement,  mamma, 
and  I  must  sit  with  idle  hands  for  another 
day,"  said  Clara  with  a  despondent  sigh,  as  the  post 
man  passed  the  door. 

"  You  needn't  do  that,  child,  when  I  'm  suffering 
for  a  new  cap,  and  no  one  can  suit  me  so  well  as  you, 
if  you  have  the  spirits  to  do  it,"  answered  her 
mother  from  the  sofa,  where  she  spent  most  of  her 
time  bewailing  her  hard  lot. 

"  Plenty  of  spirits,  mamma,  and  what  is  still  more 
necessary,  plenty  of  materials ;  so  I  '11  toss  you  up  '  a 
love  of  a  cap '  before  you  know  it." 

And  putting  her  own  disappointment  out  of  sight, 
pretty  Clara  fell  to  work  with  such  good- will  that 
even  poor,  fretful  Mrs.  Barlow  cheered  up  in  spite 
of  herself. 

"  What  a  mercy  it  is  that  when  everything  else  is 


106  AUNT  JO'S  SCRAP-BAG. 

swept  away  in  this  dreadful  failure  I  still  have  you, 
dear,  and  no  dishonest  banker  can  rob  me  of  my 
best  treasure,"  she  said  fondly,  as  she  watched  her 
daughter  with  tearful  eyes. 

"  No  one  shall  part  us,  mamma ;  and  if  I  can  only 
get  something  to  do  we  can  be  independent  and 
happy  in  spite  of  our  losses ;  for  now  the  first  shock 
and  worry  is  over,  I  find  a  curious  sort  of  excite 
ment  in  being  poor  and  having  to  work  for  my 
living.  I  was  so  tired  of  pleasure  and  idleness  I 
really  quite  long  to  work  at  something,  if  I  could 
only  find  it." 

But  though  Clara  spoke  cheerfully,  she  had  a 
heavy  heart ;  for  during  the  month  which  had  fol 
lowed  the  discovery  that  they  were  nearly  penniless, 
she  had  been  through  a  great  deal  for  a  tenderly 
nurtured  girl  of  three-and-twenty.  Leaving  a  lux 
urious  home  for  two  plainly  furnished  rooms,  and 
trying  to  sustain  her  mother  with  hopeful  plans, 
had  kept  her  busy  for  a  time ;  but  now  she  had 
nothing  to  do  but  wait  for  replies  to  her  modest 
advertisements  as  governess,  copyist,  or  reader. 

"  I  do  wish  I  'd  been  taught  a  trade,  mamma,  or 


A   BRIGHT  IDEA.  107 

some  useful  art  by  which  I  could  earn  our  bread 
now.  Rich  people  ought  to  remember  that  money 
takes  to  itself  wings,  and  so  prepare  their  children  to 
face  poverty  bravely.  If  half  the  sums  spent  on  my 
music  and  dress  had  been  used  in  giving  me  a  single 
handicraft,  what  a  blessing  it  would  be  to  us  now  ! " 
she  said,  thoughtfully,  as  she  sewed  with  rapid  fin 
gers,  unconsciously  displaying  the  delicate  skill  of 
one  to  whom  dress  was  an  art  and  a  pleasure. 

"  If  you  were  not  so  proud  we  might  accept 
Cousin  John's  offer  and  be  quite  comfortable," 
returned  her  mother,  in  a  reproachful  tone. 

"  No ;  we  should  soon  feel  that  we  were  a  burden, 
and  that  would  be  worse  than  living  on  bread  and 
water.  Let*- us  try  to  help  ourselves  first,  and  then, 
if  we  fail,  we  cannot  be  accused  of  indolence.  I 
know  papa  would  wish  it,  so  please  let  me  try." 

"As  you  like  ;  I  shall  not  be  a  burden  to  any  one 
long."  And  Mrs.  Barlow  looked  about  for  her  hand 
kerchief. 

But  Clara  prevented  the  impending  shower  by 
skilfully  turning  the  poor  lady's  thoughts  to  the  new 
cap  which  was  ready  to  try  on. 


108  AUNT  JO'S  SCRAP-BAG. 

"  Isn't  it  pretty  ?  Just  the  soft  effect  that  is  so 
becoming  to  your  dear,  pale  face.  Take  a  good 
look  at  it,  and  tell  me  whether  you'll  have  pale  pink 
bows  or  lavender." 

"It  is  very  nice,  child;  you  always  suit  me, 
you  've  such  charming  taste.  I  '11  have  lavender,  for 
though  it 's  not  so  becoming  as  pink,  it  is  more  appro 
priate  to  our  fallen  fortunes,"  answered  her  mother, 
smiling  in  spite  of  herself,  as  she  studied  effects  in 
the  mirror. 

"  No,  let  us  have  it  pink,  for  I  want  my  pretty 
mother  to  look  her  best,  though  no  one  sees  her  but 
me,  and  I  'm  so  glad  to  know  that  I  can  make  caps 
well  if  I  can't  do  anything  else,"  said  Clara,  rum 
maging  in  a  box  for  the  desired  shade.  ' 

"  No  one  ever  suited  me  so  well,  and  if  you  were 
not  a  lady,  you  might  make  a  fortune  as  a  milliner, 
for  you  have  the  taste  of  a  Frenchwoman,"  said 
Mrs.  Barlow,  adding,  as  she  took  her  cap  <5ff,  "  Don't 
you  remember  how  offended  Madame  Pigat  was 
when  she  found  out  that  you  altered  all  her  caps 
before  I  wore  them,  and  how  she  took  some  of  your 
hints  and  got  all  the  credit  of  them  ?  " 


A   BRIGHT  IDEA.  109 

"  Yes,  mamma,"  was  all  Clara  answered,  and  then 
§at  working  so  silently  that  it  was  evident  her 
thoughts  were  as  busy  as  her  hands.  Presently  she 
said,  "  I  must  go  down  to  our  big*box  for  the  ribbon, 
there  is  none  here  that  I  like,"  and,  taking  a  bunch 
of  keys,  she  went  slowly  away. 

In  the  large  parlor  below  stood  several  trunks  and 
cases  belonging  to  Mrs.  Barlow,  and  left  there  for 
her  convenience,  as  the  room  was  unlet. 

Clara  opened  several  of  these,  and  rapidly  turned 
over  their,  contents,  as  if  looking  for  something 
beside  pale  pink  ribbon.  Whatever  it  was  she  ap 
peared  to  find  it,  for,  dropping  the  last  lid  with  a 
decided  bang,  she  stood  a  moment  looking  about  the 
large  drawing-room  with  such  brightening  eyes  it 
was  evident  that  they  saw  some  invisible  beauty 
there ;  then  a  smile  broke  over  her  face,  and  she 
ran  up  stairs  to  waken  her  mother  from  a  brief  doze, 
by  crying  joyfully,  as  she  waved  a  curl  of  gay 
ribbon  over  her  head,  — 

"  I  've  got  it,  mamma,  I  Ve  got  it ! " 

"  Bless  the  child !  what  have  you  got,  —  a  letter  ?  " 
cried  Mrs.  Barlow,  starting  up. 


110  AUNT  JO'S  SCRAP-BAG. 

"  No  ;  but  something  better  still,  —  a  new  way  to 
get  a  living.  I  '11  be  a  milliner,  and  you  shall  have 
as  many  caps  as  you  like.  Now  don't  laugh,  but 
listen;  for  it  is  a  splendid  idea,  and  you  shall  have  all 
the  credit  of  it,  because  you  suggested  it." 

"I  Ve  materials  enough,"  she  continued,  "  to  begin 
with ;  for  when  all  else  went,  they  left  us  our  finery, 
you  know,  and  now  we  can  live  on  it  instead  of 
wearing  it.  Yes,  I  '11  make  caps  and  sell  them,  and 
that  will  be  both  easier  and  pleasanter  than  to  go  out 
teaching  and  leave  you  here  alone." 

"  But  how  can  you  sell  them  ?  "  asked  her  mother, 
half  bewildered  by  the  eagerness  with  which  the 
new  plan  was  unfolded. 

"  That 's  the  best  of  all,  and  I  only  thought  of  it 
when  I  was  among  the  boxes.  Why  not  take  the 
room  below  and  lay  out  all  our  fine  things  tempt 
ingly,  instead  of  selling  them  one  by  one  as  if  we 
were  ashamed  of  it  ? 

"  As  I  stood  there  just  now,  I  saw  it  all.  Mrs. 
Smith  would  be  glad  to  let  the  room,  and  I  could 
take  it  for  a  month,  just  to  try  how  my  plan  works  ; 
and  if  it  does  go  well,  why  can  I  not  make  a  living 
as  well  as  Madame?" 


A   BRIGHT  IDEA.  Ill 

11  But,  child,  what  will  people  say  ?  " 

"  That  I  'm  an  honest  girl,  and  lend  me  a  hand,  if 
they  are  friends  worth  having." 

Mrs.  Barlow  was  not  convinced,  and  declared  she 
would  hide  herself  if  any  one  came  ;  but  after  much 
discussion  consented  to  let  the  trial  be  made,  though 
predicting  utter  failure,  as  she  retired  to  her  sofa  to 
bewail  the  sad  necessity  for  such  a  step. 

Clara  worked  busily  for  several  days  to  carry  into 
execution  her  plan;  then  she  sent  some  notes  to  a 
dozen  friends,  modestly  informing  them  that  her 
"  opening  "  would  take  place  on  a  certain  day. 

"  Curiosity  will  bring  them,  if  nothing  else,"  she 
said,  trying  to  seem  quite  cool  and  gay,  though  her 
heart  fluttered  with  anxiety  as  she  arranged  her 
little  stock  in  the  front  parlor. 

In  the  bay-window  was  her  flower-stand,  where 
the  white  azaleas,  red  geraniums,  and  gay  nastur 
tiums  seemed  to  have  bloomed  their  loveliest  to 
help  the  gentle  mistress  who  had  tended  them  so 
faithfully,  even  when  misfortune's  frost  had  nipped 
her  own  bright  roses.  Overhead  swung  a  pair  of 
canaries  in  their  garlanded  cage,  singing  with  all 


112  AUNT  JU'S  SCRAP-BAG. 

their  might,  as  if,  like  the  London  'prentice-boys  in 
old  times,  they  cried,  "  What  do  you  lack  ?  Come 
buy,  come  buy ! " 

On  a  long  table  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  a  dozen 
delicate  caps  and  head-dresses  were  set  forth.  On 
another  lay  garlands  of  French  flowers  bought  for 
pretty  Clara's  own  adornment.  Several  dainty  ball- 
dresses,  imported  for  the  gay  winter  she  had  expected 
to  pass,  hung  over  chairs  and  couch,  also  a  velvet 
mantle  Mrs.  Barlow  wished  to  sell,  while  some  old 
lace,  well-chosen  ribbons,  and  various  elegant  trifles 
gave  color  and  grace  to  the  room. 

Clara's  first  customer  was  Mrs.  Tower,  —  a  stout 
florid  lady,  full  of  the  good-will  and  the  real  kindli 
ness  which  is  so  sweet  in  times  of  trouble. 

44  My  dear  girl,  how  are  you,  and  how  is  mamma  ? 
Now  this  is  charming.  Such  a  capital  idea,  and 
just  what  is  needed ;  a  quiet  place,  where  one  can 
come  and  be  made  pretty  without  all  the  world's 
knowing  how  we  do  it."  And  greeting  Clara  even 
more  cordially  than  of  old,  the  good  lady  trotted 
about,  admiring  everything,  just  as  she  used  to  do 
when  she  visited  the  girl  in  her  former  home  to 


A   BRIGHT  IDEA.  113 

see  and  exclaim  over  any  fresh  arrival  of  Paris 
finery. 

"  I  '11  take  this  mantle  off  your  hands  with  pleasure, 
for  I  intended  to  import  one,  and  this  saves  me  so 
much  trouble.  Put  it  up  for  me,  dear,  at  the  price 
mamma  paid  for  it,  not  a  cent  less,  because  it  has 
never  been  worn,  and  I  Ve  no  duties  to  pay  on  it,  so 
it  is  a  good  bargain  for  me." 

Then,  before  Clara  could  thank  her,  she  turned 
to  the  head-gear,  and  fell  into  raptures  over  a  deli 
cate  affair,  all  blonde  and  forget-me-nots. 

"  Such  a  sweet  thing !  I  must  have  it  before  any 
one  else  snaps  it  up.  Try  it  on,  love,  and  give  it  a 
touch  if  it  doesn't  fit." 

Clara  knew  it  would  be  vain  to  remonstrate,  for 
Mrs.  Tower  had  not  a  particle  of  taste,  and  insisted 
on  wearing  blue,  with  the  complexion  of  a  lobster. 
On  it  went,  and  even  the  wearer  could  not  fail  to 
see  that  something  was  amiss. 

"  It's  not  the  fault  of  the  cap,  dear.  I  always  was 
a  fright,  and  my  dreadful  color  spoils  whatever  I  put 
on,  so  I  have  things  handsome,  and  give  up  any 
attempt  at  beauty,"  she  said,  shaking  her  head  at 
herself  in  the  glass. 


114  AUNT  JO'S  SCRAP-BAG. 

"  You  need  not  do  that,  and  I  '11  show  you  what  I 
mean,  if  you  will  give  me  leave ;  for,  with  your  fine 
figure  and  eyes,  you  can't  help  being  an  elegant 
woman.  See,  now,  how  I'll  make  even  this  cap 
becoming."  And  Clara  laid  the  delicate  flowers 
among  the  blonde  behind,  where  the  effect  was 
unmarred  by  the  over-red  cheeks,  and  nothing  but 
a  soft  ruche  lay  over  the  dark  hair  in  front. 

"  There,  isn't  that  better  ? "  she  asked,  with  her 
own  blooming  face  so  full  of  interest  it  was  a  pleas 
ure  to  see  her. 

"  Infinitely  better ;  really  becoming,  and  just  what 
I  want  with  my  new  silver-gray  satin.  Dear  me, 
what  a  thing  taste  is ! "  And  Mrs.  Tower  regarded 
herself  with  feminine  satisfaction  in  her  really  fine 
eyes. 

Here  a  new  arrival  interrupted  them,  and  Clara 
went  to  meet  several  girls  belonging  to  what  had 
lately  been  her  own  set.  The  young  ladies  did  not 
quite  know  how  to  behave ;  for,  though  it  seemed 
perfectly  natural  to  be  talking  over  matters  of 
dress  with  Clara,  there  was  an  air  of  proud  humil 
ity  about  her  that  made  them  feel  ill  at  ease,  till 


A   BRIGHT  IDEA.  115 

Nellie,  a  lively,  warm-hearted  creature,  broke  the 
ice  by  saying,  with  a  little  quiver  in  her  gay 
voice, — 

"  It 's  no  use,  girls  ;  we  've  either  got  to  laugh  or 
cry,  and  I  think,  on  the  whole,  it  would  be  best"  for 
all  parties  to  laugh,  and  then  go  on  just  as  we  used 
to  do ;  "  which  she  did  so  infectiously  that  the  rest 
joined,  and  then  began  to  chatter  as  freely  as  of 
old. 

"  I  speak  for  the  opal  silk,  Clara,  for  papa  has 
promised  me  a  Worth  dress,  and  I  was  green  with 
envy  when  this  came,"  cried  Nellie,  secretly  wishing 
she  wore  caps,  that  she  might  buy  up  the  whole 
dozen. 

"  You  would  be  green  with  disgust  if  I  let  you 
have  it,  for  no  brunette  could  wear  that  most  trying 
of  colors,  and  I  was  rash  to  order  it.  You  are  very 
good,  dear  Nell,  but  I  won't  let  you  sacrifice  yourself 
to  friendship  in  that  heroic  style,"  answered  Clara, 
with  a  grateful  kiss. 

"  But  the  others  are  blue  and  lilac,  both  more 
trying  than  anything  with  a  shade  of  pink  in  it. 
If  you  won't  let  me  have  this,  you  must  invent 


116  AUNT  JO'S  SCRAP-BAG. 

me  the  most  becoming  thing  ever  seen;  for  the 
most  effective  dress  I  had  last  winter  was  the 
gold-colored  one  with  the  wreath  of  laburnums, 
which  you  chose  for  me,"  persisted  Nellie,  bound  to 
help  in  some  way. 

"  I  bespeak  something  sweet  for  New  Year's  Day. 
You  know  my  style,"  said  another  young  lady, 
privately  resolving  to  buy  the  opal  dress,  when  the 
rest  had  gone. 

"  Consider  yourself  engaged  to  get  up  my  brides 
maids'  costumes,  for  I  never  shall  forget  what  a 
lovely  effect  those  pale  green  dresses  produced  at 
Alice's  wedding.  She  looked  like  a  lily  among  its 
leaves,  some  one  said,  and  you  suggested  them,  I 
remember,"  added  a  third  damsel,  with  the  dignity 
of  a  bride-elect. 

So  it  went  on,  each  doing  what  she  could  to  help, 
not  with  condolence,  but  approbation,  and  the  sub 
stantial  aid  that  is  so  easy  to  accept  when  gilded  by 
kind  words  and  cheery  sympathy. 

A  hard  winter,  but  a  successful  one;  and  when 
spring  came,  and  all  her  patrons  were  fitted  out  for 
mountains,  seaside,  or  springs,  Clara  folded  her  weary 


A   BRIGHT  IDEA.  117 

hands  content.  But  Mrs.  Barlow  saw  with  anxiety 
how  pale  the  girl's  cheeks  had  grown,  how  wistfully 
she  eyed  the  green  grass  in  the  park,  and  how  soon 
the  smile  died  on  the  lips  that  tried  to  say  cheer 
fully,- 

"  No,  mamma,  dear,  I  dare  not  spend  in  a  summer 
trip  the  little  sum  I  have  laid  by  for  the  hard  times 
that  may  come.  I  shall  do  very  well,  but  I  can't 
help  remembering  the  happy  voyage  we  meant  to 
make  this  year,  and  how  much  good  it  would  do 
your 

Watching  the  unselfish  life  of  her  daughter  had 
taught  Mrs.  Barlow  to  forget  her  own  regrets,  in 
spired  her  with  a  desire  to  do  her  part,  and  made 
her  ashamed  of  her  past  indolence. 

Happening  to  mention  her  maternal  anxieties  to 
Mrs.  Tower,  that  good  lady  suggested  a  plan  by 
which  the  seemingly  impossible  became  a  fact,  and 
Mrs.  Barlow  had  the  pleasure  of  surprising  Clara 
with  a  "  bright  idea,"  as  the  girl  had  once  surprised 
her. 

"  Come,  dear,  bestir  yourself,  for  we  must  sail  in 
ten  days  to  pass  our  summer  in  or  near  Paris.  I've 


118  AUNT  JO'S  SCRAP-BAG. 

got  commissions  enough  to  pay  our  way,  and  we  can 
unite  business  and  pleasure  in  the  most  charming 
manner." 

Clara  could  only  clasp  her  hands  and  listen,  as 
her  mother  unfolded  her  plan,  telling  how  she  was 
to  get  Maud's  trousseau,  all  Mrs.  Tower's  winter 
costumes,  and  a  long  list  of  smaller  commissions 
from* friends  and  patrons  who  had  learned  to  trust 
and  value  the  taste  and  judgment  of  the  young 
modiste. 

So  Clara  had  her  summer  trip,  and  came  home 
bright  and  blooming  in  the  early  autumn,  ready 
to  take  up  her  pretty  trade  again,  quite  unconscious 
that,  while  trying  to  make  others  beautiful,  she  wu8 
making  her  own  life  a  very  lovely  one. 


VTII. 
HOW  THEY  CAMPED  OUT. 

"  TT  looks  so  much  like  snow  I  think  it  would  be 
wiser  to  put  off  your  sleighing  party,  Gwen," 
said  Mrs.  Arnold,  looking  anxiously  out  at  the 
heavy  sky  and  streets  still  drifted  by  the  last 
winter  storm. 

"Not  before  night,  mamma;  we  don't  mind  its 
being  cloudy,  we  like  it,  because  the  sun  makes  the 
snow  so  dazzling  when  we  get  out  of  town.  We 
can't  give  it  up  now,  for  here  comes  Patrick  with 
the  boys."  And  Gwen  ran  down  to  welcome  the 
big  sleigh,  which  just  then  drove  up  with  four  jolly 
lads  skirmishing  about  inside. 

"  Come  on  !  "  called  Mark,  her  brother,  knocking 
his  friends  right  and  left,  to  make  room  for  the  four 
girls  who  were  to  complete  the  party. 

"What  do  you  think  of  the  weather,  Patrick?" 
asked  Mrs.  Arnold  from  the  window,  still  undecided 


120  AUNT  JO'S  SCRAP-BAG. 

about  the  wisdom  of  letting  her  flock  go  off  alone, 
papa  having  been  called  away  after  the  plan  was 
made. 

"  Faith,  ma'rn,  it 's  an  illigant  day  barring  the  wind, 
that's  a  thrifle  could  to  the  nose.  I'll  have  me  eye 
on  the  childer,  ma'm,  and  there  '11  be  no  throuble  at 
all,  at  all,"  replied  the  old  coachman,  lifting  a  round 
red  face  out  of  his  muffler,  and  patting  little  Gus  on 
the  shoulder,  as  he  sat  proudly  on  the  high  seat 
holding  the  whip. 

"  Be  careful,  dears,  and  come  home  early." 

With  which  parting  caution  mamma  shut  the 
window,  and  watched  the  young  folks  drive  gayly 
away,  little  dreaming  what  would  happen  before 
they  got  back. 

The  wind  was  more  than  a  "  thrifle  could,"  for 
when  they  got  out  of  the  city  it  blew  across  the  open 
country  in  bitter  blasts,  and  made  the  eight  little 
noses  almost  as  red  as  old  Pat's,  who  had  been  up 
all  night  at  a  wake,  and  was  still  heavy-headed  with 
too  much  whiskey,  though  no  one  suspected  it. 

The  lads  enjoyed  themselves  immensely  snow 
balling  one  another ;  for  the  drifts  were  still  fresh 


HOW  THEY  CAMPED  OUT.  121 

enough  to  furnish  soft  snow,  and  Mark,  Bob,  and 
Tony  had  many  a  friendly  tussle  in  it  as  they  went 
up  hills,  or  paused  to  breathe  the  horses  after  a 
swift  trot  along  a  level  bit  of  road.  Little  Gus 
helped  drive  till  his  hands  were  benumbed  in  spite 
of  the  new  red  mittens,  and  he  had  to  descend 
among  the  girls,  who  were  cuddled  cosily  under  the 
warm  robes,  telling  secrets,  eating  candy,  and  laugh 
ing  at  the  older  boys'  pranks. 

Sixteen-year-old  Gwendoline  was  matron  of  the 
party,  and  kept  excellent  order  among  the  girls ;  for 
Ruth  and  Alice  were  nearly  her  own  age,  and  Rita 
a  most  obedient  younger  sister. 

"  I  say,  Gwen,  we  are  going  to  stop  at  the  old 
house  on  the  way  home  and  get  some  nuts  for  this 
evening.  Papa  said  we  might,  and  some  of  the  big 
Baldwins  too.  I  've  got  baskets,  and  while  we  fel 
lows  fill  them  you  girls  can  look  round  the  house," 
said  Mark,  when  the  exhausted  young  gentlemen 
returned  to  their  seats. 

"  That  will  be  nice.  I  want  to  get  some  books, 
and  Rita  has  been  very  anxious  about  one  of  her 
dolls,  which  she  is  sure  was  left  in  the  nursery 


122  AUNT  JO'S  SCRAP-BAG. 

closet.  If  we  are  going  to  stop  we  ought  to  be 
turning  back,  Pat,  for  it  is  beginning  to  snow  and 
will  be  dark  early,"  answered  Gwen,  suddenly  real 
izing  that  great  flakes  were  fast  whitening  the  roads 
and  the  wind  had  risen  to  a  gale. 

"Share  and  I  will,  miss  dear,  as  soon  as  iver 
I  can  ;  but  it 's  round  a  good  bit  we  must  go,  for  I 
couldn't  be  turning  here  widout  upsettin'  the  whole 
of  yez,  it's  that  drifted.  Rest  aisy,  and  I  '11  fetch  up 
at  the  ould  place  in  half  an  hour,  plaze  the  powers," 
said  Pat,  who  had  lost  his  way  and  wouldn't  own 
it,  being  stupid  with  a  sup  or  two  he  had  privately 
taken  on  the  way,  to  keep  the  chill  out  of  his  bones 
he  said. 

On  they  went  again,  with  the  wind  at  their  backs, 
caring  little  for  the  snow  that  now  fell  fast,  or  the 
gathering  twilight,  since  they  were  going  toward 
home  they  thought.  It  was  a  very  long  half-hour 
before  Pat  brought  them  to  the  country-house, 
which  was  shut  up  for  the  winter.  With  difliculty 
they  ploughed  their  way  up  to  the  steps,  and  scram 
bled  on  to  the  piazza,  where  they  danced  about  to 
warm  their  feet  till  Mark  unlocked  the  door  and  let 
them  in,  leaving  Pat  to  enjoy  a  doze  on  his  seat. 


HOW  THEY  CAMPED  OUT.  123 

"  Make  haste,  boys  ;  it  is  cold  and  dark  here,  and 
we  must  get  home.  Mamma  will  be  so  anxious,  and 
it  really  is  going  to  be  a  bad  storm,"  said  Gwen, 
whose  spirits  were  damped  by  the  gloom  of  the  old 
house,  and  who  felt  her  responsibility,  having  prom 
ised  to  be  home  early. 

Off  went  the  boys  to  attic  and  cellar,  being 
obliged  to  light  the  lantern  left  here  for  the  use  of 
whoever  came  now  and  then  to  inspect  the  prem 
ises.  The  girls,  having  found  books  and  doll,  sat 
upon  the  rolled-up  carpets,  or  peeped  about  at  the 
once  gay  and  hospitable  rooms,  now  looking  very 
empty  and  desolate  with  piled-up  furniture,  shut 
tered  windows,  and  fireless  hearths. 

(t  If  we  were  going  to  stay  long  I  'd  have  a  fire  in 
the  library.  Papa  often  does  when  he  comes  out,  to 
keep  the  books  from  moulding,"  began  Gwen,  but 
was  interrupted  by  a  shout  from  without,  and,  run 
ning  to  the  door,  saw  Pat  picking  himself  out  of  a 
drift  while  the  horses  were  galloping  down  the 
avenue  at  full  speed. 

"Be  jabbers,  them  viDains  give  a  jump  when  that 
fallin'  branch  struck  'em,  and  out  I  wint,  bein'  tuk 


124  AUNT  JO'S  SCRAP-BAG. 

unknownst,  just  thinkin'  of  me  poor  cousin  Mike. 
May  his  bed  above  be  aisy  the  day !  Whist  now, 
miss  dear !  I  '11  fetch  'em  back  in  a  jiffy.  Stop  still 

r 

till  I  come,  and  kape  them  b'ys  quite." 

With  a  blow  to  settle  his  hat,  Patrick  trotted  gal 
lantly  away  into  the  storm,  and  the  girls  went  in  to 
tell  the  exciting  news  to  the  lads,  who  came  whoop 
ing  back  from  their  search,  with  baskets  of  nuts  and 
apples. 

«  Here 's  a  go  ! "  cried  Mark.  "  Old  Pat  will  run 
half-way  to  town  before  he  catches  the  horses,  and 
we  are  in  for  an  hour  or  two  at  least." 

"  Then  do  make  a  fire,  for  we  shall  die  of  cold  if 
we  have  to  wait  long,"  begged  Gwen,  rubbing  Rita's 
cold  hands,  and  looking  anxiously  at  little  Gus,  Vho 
was  about  making  up  his  mind  to  roar. 

"  So  we  will,  and  be  jolly  till  the  blunderbuss  gets 
back.  Camp  down,  girls,  and  you  fellows,  come  and 
hold  the  lantern  while  I  get  wood  and  stuff.  It  is  so 
confoundedly  dark,  I  shall  break  my  neck  down  the 
shed  steps."  And  Mark  led  the  way  to  the  library, 
where  the  carpet  still  remained,  and  comfortable 
chairs  and  sofas  invited  the  chilly  visitors  to  rest. 


HOW   THEY  CAMPED   OUT.  125 

"  How  can  you  light  your  fire  when  you  get  the 
wood  ?  "  asked  Ruth,  a  practical  damsel,  who  looked 
well  after  her  own  creature  comforts  and  was  long 
ing  for  a  warm  supper. 

"  Papa  hides  the  matches  in  a  tin  box,  so  the  rats 
won't  get  at  them.  Here  they  are,  and  two  or  three 
bits  of  candle  for  the  sticks  on  the  chimney-piece,  if  he 
forgets  to  have  the  lantern  trimmed.  Now  we  will 
light  up,  and  look  cosey  when  the  boys  come  back." 

And  producing  the  box  from  under  a  sofa-cushion, 
Gwen  cheered  the  hearts  of  all  by  lighting  two 
candles,  rolling  up  the  chairs,  and  making  ready  to 
be  comfortable.  Thoughtful  Alice  went  to  see  if 
Pat  was  returning,  and  found  a  buffalo-robe  lying 
on  the  steps.  Returning  with  this,  she  reported  that 
there  was  no  sign  of  the  runaways,  and  advised 
making  ready  for  a  long  stay. 

"How  mamma  will  worry!"  thought  Gwen,  but 
made  light  of  the  affair,  because  she  s^w  Rita  looked 
timid,  and  Gus  shivered  till  his  teeth  chattered. 

"  We  will  have  a  nice  time,  and  play  we  are  ship 
wrecked  people  or  Arctic  explorers.  Here  comes 
Dr.  Kane  and  the  sailors  with  supplies  of  wood,  so 


126  AUNT  JO'S  SCRAP-BAG. 

we  can  thaw  our  pemmican  and  warm  our  feet. 
Gus  shall  be  the  little  Esquimaux  boy,  all  dressed  in 
fur,  as  he  is  in  the  picture  we  have  at  home,"  she 
said,  wrapping  the  child  in  the  robe,  and  putting  her 
own  sealskin  cap  on  his  head  to  divert  his  mind. 

"  Here  we  are !  Now  for  a  jolly  blaze,  boys ;  and  if 
Pat  doesn't  come  back  we  can  have  our  fun  here  in 
stead  of  at  home,"  cried  Mark,  well  pleased  with  the 
adventure,  as  were  his  mates. 

So  they  fell  to  work,  and  soon  a  bright  fire  was 
lighting  up  the  room  with  its  cheerful  shine,  and  the 
children  gathered  about  it,  quite  careless  of  the  storm 
raging  without,  and  sure  that  Pat  would  come  in 
time. 

"I'm  hungry,"  complained  Gus  as  soon  as  he  was 
warm. 

"  So  am  I,"  added  Rita  from  the  rug,  where  the 
two  little  ones  sat  toasting  themselves. 

"  Eat  an  apple,"  said  Mark. 

"  They  are  so  hard  and  cold  I  don't  like  them," 
began  Gus. 

u  Roast  some ! "  cried  Ruth. 

"  And  crack  nuts,"  suggested  Alice. 


HOW  THEY  CAMPED   OUT.  127 

"  Pity  we  can't  cook  something  in  real  camp  style ; 
it  would  be  such  fun,"  said  Tony,  who  had  spent 
weeks  on  Monadnock,  living  upon  the  supplies  he  and 
his  party  tugged  up  the  mountain  on  their  backs. 

"  We  shall  not  have  time  for  anything  but  what 
we  have.  Put  down  your  apples  and  crack  away,  or 
we  shall  be  obliged  to  leave  them,"  advised  Gwen, 
coming  back  from  an  observation  at  the  front  door 
with  an  anxious  line  on  her  forehead ;  for  the  storm 
was  rapidly  increasing,  and  there  was  no  sign  of  Pat 
or  the  horses. 

The  rest  were  in  high  glee,  and  an  hour  or  two 
slipped  quickly  away  as  they  enjoyed  the  im 
promptu  feast  and  played  games.  Gus  recalled  them 
to  the  discomforts  of  their  situation  by  saying  with 
a  yawn  and  a  whimper,  — 

"I'm  so  sleepy!  I  want  my  own  bed  and 
mamma." 

"  So  do  I !  "  echoed  Rita,  who  had  been  nodding 
for  some  time,  and  longed  to  lie  down  and  sleep  com 
fortably  anywhere. 

"  Almost  eight  o'clock !  By  Jove,  that  old  Pat 
is  taking  his  time,  I  think.  Wonder  if  he  has  got 


128  A  UNT  JO  'S  SCRAP-BA  G. 

into  trouble  ?  We  can't  do  anything,  and  may  as 
well  keep  quiet  here,"  said  Mark,  looking  at  his 
watch  and  beginning  to  understand  that  the  joke 
was  rather  a  serious  one. 

"  Better  make  a  night  of  it  and  all  go  to  sleep.  Pat 
can  wake  us  up  when  he  comes.  The  cold  makes 
a  fellow  so  drowsy."  And  Bob  gave  a  stretch  that 
nearly  rent  him  asunder. 

"  I  will  let  the  children  nap  on  the  sofa.  They 
are  so  tired  of  waiting,  and  may  as  well  amuse  them 
selves  in  that  way  as  in  fretting.  Come,  Gus  and 
Rita,  each  take  a  pillow,  and  I  '11  cover  you  up  with 
my  shawl." 

Gwen  made  the  little  ones  comfortable,  and  they 
were  off  in  five  minutes.  The  others  kept  up 
bravely  till  nine  o'clock,  then  the  bits  of  candles 
were  burnt  out,  the  stories  all  told,  nuts  and  apples 
had  lost  their  charm,  and  weariness  and  hunger 
caused  spirits  to  fail  perceptibly. 

"  I  've  eaten  five  Baldwins,  and  yet  I  want  more. 
Something  filling  and  good.  Can't  we  catch  a  rat 
and  roast  him  ? "  proposed  Bob,  who  was  a  hearty 
lad  and  was  ravenous  by  this  time. 


HOW  THEY  CAMPED   OUT.  129 

"  Isn't  there  anything  in  the  house  ?  "  asked  Ruth, 
who  dared  not  eat  nuts  for  fear  of  indigestion. 

"  Not  a  thing  that  I  know  of  except  a  few  pickles 
in  the  storeroom;  we  had  so  many,  mamma  left 
some  here,"  answered  Gwen,  resolving  to  provision 
the  house  before  she  left  it  another  autumn. 

"  Pickles  alone  are  rather  sour  feed.  If  we  only 
had  a  biscuit  now,  they  wouldn't  be  bad  for  a 
relish,"  said  Tony,  with  the  air  of  a  man  who  had 
known  what  it  was  to  live  on  burnt  bean-soup  and 
rye  flapjacks  for  a  week. 

"I  saw  a  keg  of  soft-soap  in  the  shed.  How 
would  that  go  with  the  pickles?"  suggested  Bob, 
who  felt  equal  to  the  biggest  and  acidest  cucumber 
ever  grown. 

"  Mamma  knew  an  old  lady  who  actually  did  eat 
soft-soap  and  cream  for  her  complexion,"  put  in 
Alice,  whose  own  fresh  face  looked  as  if  she  had 
tried  the  same  distasteful  remedy  with  success. 

The  boys  laughed,  and  Mark,  who  felt  that  hospi 
tality  required  him  to  do  something  for  his  guests, 
said  briskly,  — 

"Let  us  go  on  a  foraging  expedition  while  the 
9 


130  AUNT  JO'S  SCRAP-BAG. 

lamp  holds  out  to  burn,  for  the  old  lantern  is  al 
most  gone  and  then  we  are  done  for.  Come  on,  Bob ; 
your  sharp  nose  will  smell  out  food  if  there  is  any." 

"  Don't  set  the  house  afire,  and  bring  more  wood 
when  you  come,  for  we  must  have  light  of  some 
kind  in  this  poky  place,"  called  Gwen,  with  a  sigh, 
wishing  every  one  of  them  were  safely  at  home  and 
abed. 

A  great  tramping  of  boots,  slamming  of  doors, 
and  shouting  of  voices  followed  the  departure  of  the 
boys,  as  well  as  a  crash,  a  howl,  and  then  a  roar  of 
laughter,  as  Bob  fell  down  the  cellar  stairs,  having 
opened  the  door  in  search  of  food  and  poked  his 
nose  in  too  far.  Presently  they  came  back,  very 
dusty,  cobwebby,  and  cold,  but  triumphantly  bear 
ing  a  droll  collection  of  trophies.  Mark  had  a  piece 
of  board  and  the  lantern,  Tony  a  big  wooden  box 
and  a  tin  pail,  Bob  fondly  embraced  a  pickle  jar  and 
a  tumbler  of  jelly  which  had  been  forgotten  on  a  high 
shelf  in  the  storeroom. 

"Meal,  pickles,  jam,  and  boards.  What  a  mess, 
and  what  are  we  to  do  with  it  all?"  cried  the  girls, 
much  amused  at  the  result  of  the  expedition. 


HOW  THEY  CAMPED   OUT.  131 

"  Can  any  of  you  make  a  hoe  cake  ? "  demanded 
Mark. 

"  No,  indeed !  I  can  make  caramels  and  cocoanut- 
cakes,"  said  Ruth,  proudly. 

"I  can  make  good  toast  and  tea,"  added  Alice. 

"I  can't  cook  anything,"  confessed  Gwen,  who 
was  unusually  accomplished  in  French,  German,  and 
music. 

"  Girls  aren't  worth  much  in  the  hour  of  need. 
Take  hold,  Tony,  you  are  the  chap  for  me."  And 
Mark  disrespectfully  turned  his  back  on  the  young 
ladies,  who  could  only  sit  and  watch  the  lads  work. 

"  He  can't  do  it  without  water,"  whispered  Ruth. 

"  Or  salt,"  answered  Alice. 

"  Or  a  pan  to  bake  it  in,"  added  Gwen  ;  and  then 
all  smiled  at  the  dilemma  they  foresaw. 

But  Tony  was  equal  to  the  occasion,  and  calmly 
went  on  with  his  task,  while  Mark  arranged  the  fire 
and  Bob  opened  the  pickles.  First  the  new  cook 
filled  the  pail  with  snow  till  enough  was  melted  to 
wet  the  meal ;  this  mixture  was  stirred  with  a  pine 
stick  till  thick  enough,  then  spread  on  the  board 
and  set  up  before  the  bed  of  coals  to  brown. 


132  AUNT  JO'S   SCRAP-BAG. 

"  It  never  will  bake  in  the  world."  "  He  can't 
turn  it,  so  it  .won't  be  done  on  both  sides."  "  Won't 
be  fit  to  eat  any  way!"  And  with  these  dark 
hints  the  girls  consoled  themselves  for  their  want 
of  skill. 

But  the  cake  did  bake  a  nice  brown,  Tony  did 
turn  it  neatly  with  his  jack-knife  and  the  stick,  and 
when  it  was  done  cut  it  into  bits,  added  jelly,  and 
passed  it  round  on  an  old  atlas ;  and  every  one 
said,  — 

"  It  really  does  taste  good  !  " 

Two  more  were  baked,  and  eaten  with  pickles  for 
a  change,  then  all  were  satisfied,  and  after  a  vote  of 
thanks  to  Tony  they  began  to  think  of  sleep. 

"  Pat  has  gone  home  and  told  them  we  are  all 
right,  and  mamma  knows  we  can  manage  here  well 
enough  for  one  night,  so  don't  worry,  Gwen,  but 
take  a  nap,  and  I  '11  lie  on  the  rug  and  see  to  the 
fire." 

Mark's  happy-go-lucky  way  of  taking  things  did 
not  convince  his  sister ;  but  as  she  could  do  nothing, 
she  submitted  and  made  her  friends  as  comfortable 
as  she  could. 


HOW  THEY  CAMPED  OUT.  133 

All  had  plenty  of  wraps,  so  the  girls  nestled  into 
the  three  large  chairs,  Bob  and  Tony  rolled  them 
selves  up  in  the  robe,  with  their  feet  to  the  fire,  and 
were  soon  snoring  like  weary  hunters.  Mark  pil 
lowed  his  head  on  a  log,  and  was  sound  asleep  in 
ten  minutes  in  spite  of  his  promise  to  be  sentinel. 

Gwen's  chair  was  the  least  easy  of  the  three,  and 
she  could  not  forget  herself  like  the  rest,  but  sat 
wide  awake,  watching  the  blaze,  counting  the  hours, 
and  wondering  why  no  one  came  to  them.  . 

The  wind  blew  fiercely,  the  snow  beat  against 
the  blinds,  rats  scuttled  about  the  walls,  and  now 
and  then  a  branch  fell  upon  the  roof  with  a  crash. 
Weary,  yet  excited,  the  poor  girl  imagined  all  sorts 
of  mishaps  to  Pat  and  the  horses,  recalled  various 
ghost  stories  she  had  heard,  and  wondered  if  it  was 
on  such  a  night  as  this  that  a  neighbor's  house  had 
been  robbed.  So  nervous  did  she  get  at  last  that 
she  covere'd  up  her  face  and  resolutely  began  to 
count  a  thousand,  feeling  that  anything  was  better 
than  having  to  wake  Mark  and  own  she  was 
frightened. 

Before  she  knew  it  she  fell  into  a  drowse  and 


134  AUNT  JO'S  SCRAP-BAG. 

dreamed  that  they  were  all  cast  away  on  an  iceberg 
and  a  polar  bear  was  coming  up  to  devour  Gus, 
who  innocently  called  to  the  big  white  dog  and 
waited  to  caress  him. 

"  A  bear!  a  bear !  oh,  boys,  save  him ! "  murmured 
Gwen  in  her  sleep,  and  the  sound  of  her  own  dis 
tressed  voice  waked  her. 

The  fire  was  nearly  out,  for  she  had  slept  longer 
than  she  knew,  the  room  was  full  of  shadows,  and  the 
storm  seemed  to  have  died  away.  In  the  silence 
which  now  reigned,  unbroken  even  by  a  snore, 
Gwen  heard  a  sound  that  made  her  start  and  trem 
ble.  Some  one  was  coming  softly  up  the  back  stairs. 
All  the  outer  doors  were  locked,  she  was  sure  ;  all 
the  boys  lay  in  their  places,  for  she  could  see  and 
count  the  three  long  figures  and  little  Gus  in  a 
bunch  on  the  sofa.  The  girls  had  not  stirred,  and 
this  was  no  rat's  scamper,  but  a  slow  and  careful 
tread,  stealing  nearer  and  nearer  to  the  study  door, 
left  ajar  when  the  last  load  of  wood  was  brought 
in. 

"  Pat  would  knock  or  ring,  and  papa  would  speak, 
BO  that  we  might  not  be  scared.  I  want  to  scream, 


HOW  THEY  CAMPED   OUT.  135 

but  I  won't  till  I  see  that  it  really  is  some  one," 
thought  Gwen,  while  her  heart  beat  fast  and  her 
eyes  were  fixed  on  the  door,  straining  to  see  through 
the  gloom. 

The  steps  drew  nearer,  paused  on  the  threshold, 
and  then  a  head  appeared  as  the  door  noiselessly 
swung  wider  open.  A  man's  head  in  a  fur  cap,  but  it 
was  neither  papa  nor  Pat  nor  Uncle  Ed.  Poor  Gwen 
would  have  called  out  then,  but  her  voice  was  gone, 
and  she  could  only  lie  back,  looking,  mute  and 
motionless.  A  tiny  spire  of  flame  sprung  up  and 
flickered  for  a  moment  on  the  tall  dark  figure  in  the 
doorway,  a  big  man  with  a  beard,  and  in  his  hand 
something  that  glittered.  Was  it  a  pistol  or  a  dag 
ger  or  a  dark  lantern  ?  thought  the  girl,  as  the  glim 
mer  died  away,  and  the  shadows  returned  to  terrify 
her. 

The  man  seemed  to  look  about  him  keenly  for  a 
moment,  then  vanished,  and  the  steps  went  down  the 
hall  to  the  front  door,  which  was  opened  from  within 
and  some  one  admitted  quietly.  Whispers  were 
heard,  and  then  feet  approached  again,  accompanied 
by  a  gleam  of  light. 


136  AUNT  JO'S  SCRAP-BAG. 

"  Now  I  must  scream  ! "  thought  Gwen ;  and 
scream  she  did  with  all  her  might,  as  two  men  en 
tered,  one  carrying  a  lantern,  the  other  a  bright 
tin  can. 

"  Boys  !  Robbers  !  Fire  !  Tramps  !  Oh,  do 
wake  up  ! "  cried  Gwen,  frantically  pulling  Mark  by 
the  hair,  and  Bob  and  Tony  by  the  legs,  as  the 
quickest  way  of  rousing  them. 

Then  there  was  a  scene  !  The  boys  sprung  up  and 
rubbed  their  eyes,  the  girls  hid  theirs  and  began  to 
shriek,  while  the  burglars  laughed  aloud,  and  poor 
Gwen,  quite  worn  out,  fainted  away  on  the  rug.  It 
was  all  over  in  a  minute,  however;  for  Mark  had  his 
wits  about  him,  and  his  first  glance  at  the  man  with 
the  lantern  allayed  his  fears. 

«  Hullo,  TJncle  Ed  !  We  are  all  right.  Got  tired 
of  waiting  for  you,  so  we  went  to  sleep." 

"  Stop  screaming,  girls,  and  quiet  those  children  ! 
Poor  little  Gwen  is  badly  frightened.  Get  some 
snow,  Tom,  while  I  pick  her  up,"  commanded  the 
uncle,  and  order  was  soon  established. 

The  boys  were  all  right  at  once,  and  Ruth  and 
Alice  devoted  themselves  to  the  children,  who  were 


HOW  THEY  CAMPED  OUT.  137 

very  cross  and  sleepy  in  spite  of  their  fright.  Gwen 
was  herself  in  a  moment,  and  so  ashamed  of  her 
scare  that  she  was  glad  there  was  no  more  light  to 
betray  her  pale  cheeks. 

"  I  should  have  known  you,  uncle,  at  once,  but 
to  see  a  strange  man  startled  me,  and  he  didn't 
speak,  and  I  thought  that  can  was '  a  pistol," 
stammered  Gwen,  when  she  had  collected  her 
wits  a  little. 

"  Why,  that 's  my  old  friend  and  captain,  Tom  May. 
Don't  you  remember  him,  child  ?  He  thought  you 
were  all  asleep,  so  crept  out  to  tell  me  and  let  me  in." 

"  How  did  he  get  in  himself  ?  "  asked  Gwen,  glad 
to  turn  the  conversation. 

"Found  the  shed  door  open,  and  surprised  the 
camp  by  a  flank  movement.  ,  You  wouldn't  do  for 
picket  duty,  boys,"  laughed  Captain  Tom,  enjoying 
the  dismay  of  the  lads. 

"Oh,  thunder!  I  forgot  to  bolt  it  when  we 
first  went  for  the  wood.  Had  to  open  it,  the 
place  was  so  plaguy  dark,"  muttered  Bob,  much 
disgusted. 

"  Where 's  Pat  ?  "  asked  Tony,  with  great  presence 


138  AUNT  JO'S  SCRAP-BAG. 

of  mind,  feeling  anxious  to  shift  all  blame  to  his 
broad  shoulders. 

Uncle  Ed  shook  the  snow  from  his  hair  and  clothes, 
und,  poking  up  the  fire,  leisurely  sat  down  and  took 
Gus  on  his  knee  before  ho  replied,  —  "  Serve  out  the 
grog,  Tom,  while  I  spin  my  yarn." 

Round  went  the  can  of  hot  coffee,  and  a  few  sips 
brightened  up  the  young  folks  immensely,  so  that 
they  listened  with  great  interest  to  the  tale  of  Pat's 
mishaps. 

"  The  scamp  was  half -seas  over  when  he  started, 
and  deserves  all  he  got.  In  the  first  place  he  lost 
his  way,  then  tumbled  overboard,  and  let  the  horses 
go.  He  floundered  after  them  a  mile  or  two,  then 
lost  his  bearings  in  the  storm,  pitched  into  a  ditch, 
broke  his  head,  and  lay  there  till  found.  The  fel 
lows  carried  him  to  a  house  off  the  road,  and  there 
he  is  in  a  nice  state ;  for,  being  his  countrymen, 
they  dosed  him  with  whiskey  till  he  was  *  quite  and 
aisy,'  and  went  to  sleep,  forgetting  all  about  you, 
the  horses,  and  his  distracted  mistress  at  home. 
The  animals  were  stopped  at  the  cross-roads,  and 
there  we  found  them  after  a  lively  cruise  round 


HOW   THEY  CAMPED   OUT.  139 

the  country.  Then  we  hunted  up  Pat ;  but  what 
with  the  blow  and  too  many  drops  of  '  the  crayther,' 
his  head  was  in  a  muddle,  and  we  could  get  nothing 
out  of  him.  So  we  went  home  again,  and  then 
your  mother,  remembered  that  you  had  men 
tioned  stopping  here,  and  we  fitted  out  a  new 
craft  and  set  sail,  prepared  for  a  long  voyage. 
Your  father  was  away,  so  Tom  volunteered,  and 
here  we  are." 

"  A  jolly  lark !  now  let  us  go  home  and  go  to  bed," 
proposed  Mark,  with  a  gape. 

"  Isn't  it  most  morning  ?  "  asked  Tony,  who  had 
been  sleeping  like  a  dormouse. 

"Just  eleven.  "Now  pack  up  and  let  us  be  off. 
The  storm  is  over,  the  moon  coming  out,  and  we 
shall  find  a  good  supper  waiting  for  the  loved  and 
lost.  Bear  a  hand,  Tom,  and  ship  this  little  duffer, 
for  he 's  off  again." 

Uncle  Ed  put  Gus  into  the  captain's  arms,  and, 
taking  Rita  himself,  led  the  way  to  the  sleigh  which 
stood  at  the  door.  In  they  all  bundled,  and  after 
making  the  house  safe,  off  they  went,  feeling  that 
they  had  had  a  pretty  good  time  on  the  whole. 


140  AUNT  JO'S  SCRAP-BAG. 

"I  will  learn  cooking  and  courage,  before  I 
try  camping  out  again,"  resolved  Gwen,  as 
she  went  jingling  homeward;  and  she  kept  her 
word. 


IX. 

MY  LITTLE   SCHOOL-GIRL. 

r  I  "'HE  first  time  that  I  saw  her  was  one  autumn 
morning  as  I  rode  to  town  in  a  horse-car.  It 
was  early,  and  my  only  fellow-passenger  was  a 
crusty  old  gentleman,  who  sat  in  a  corner,  reading 
his  paper ;  so  when  the  car  stopped,  I  glanced  out 
to  see  who  came  next,  hoping  it  would  be  a  pleas- 
anter  person.  No  one  appeared  for  a  minute,  and 
the  car  stood  still,  while  both  driver  and  conductor 
looked  in  the  same  direction  without  a  sign  of  im 
patience.  I  looked  also,  but  all  I  could  see  was  a 
little  girl  running  across  the  park,  as  girls  of  twelve 
or  thirteen  seldom  run  nowadays,  if  any  one  can 
see  them. 

"Are  you  waiting  for  her?"tl  asked  of  the 
pleasant-faced  conductor,  who  stood  with  his  hand 
on  the  bell,  and  a  good-natured  smile  in  his 
eyes. 


142  AUNT  JO'S  SCRAP-BAG. 

"  Yes,  ma'am,  we  always  stop  for  little  missy,"  he 
answered;  and  just  then  up  she  came,  all  rosy  and 
breathless  with  her  run. 

"  Thank  you  very  much.  I  'm  late  to-day,  and  was 
afraid  I  should  miss  my  car,"  she  said,  as  he  helped 
her  in  with  a  fatherly  air  that  was  pleasant  to  see. 

Taking  a  corner  seat,  she  smoothed  the  curly 
locks,  disturbed  by  the  wind,  put  on  her  gloves,  and 
settled  her  books  in  her  lap,  then  modestly  glanced 
from  the  old  gentleman  in  the  opposite  corner  to 
the  lady  near  by.  Such  a  bright  little  face  as  I  saw 
under  the^  brown  hat-rim,  happy  blue  eyes,  dimples 
in  the  ruddy  cheeks,  and  the  innocent  expression 
which  makes  a  young  girl  so  sweet  an  object  to  old 
eyes. 

The  crusty  gentleman  evidently  agreed  with  me, 
for  he  peeped  over  the  top  of  the  paper  at  his 
pleasant  little  neighbor  as  she  sat  studying  a  lesson, 
and  cheering  herself  with  occasional  sniffs  at  a  posy 
of  mignonette  in  her  button-hole. 

When  the  old  gentleman  caught  my  eye,  he  dived 
out  of  sight  with  a  loud  "  Hem  !  "  but  he  was  peep 
ing  again  directly,  for  there  was  something  irresisti- 


MY  LITTLE  SCHOOL-GIRL.  143 

bly  attractive  about  the  unconscious  lassie  opposite ; 
and  one  could  no  more  help  looking  at  her  than  at  a 
lovely  flower  or  a  playful  kitten. 

Presently  she  shut  her  book  with  a  decided  pat, 
and  an  air  of  relief  that  amused  me.  She  saw  the 
half-smile  I  could  not  repress,  seemed  to  understand 
my  sympathy,  and  said  with  a  laugh, — 

"  It  was  a  hard  lesson,  but  I  've  got  it ! " 

So  we  began  to  talk  about  school  and  lessons,  and 
I  soon  discovered  that  the  girl  was  a  clever  scholar, 
whose  only  drawback  was,  as  she  confided  to  me,  a 
"love  of  fun." 

We  were  just  getting  quite  friendly,  when  several 
young  men  got  in,  one  of  whom  stared  at  the  pretty 
child  till  even  she  observed  it,  and  showed  that  she 
did  by  the  color  that  came  and  went  in  her  cheeks. 
It  annoyed  me  as  much  as  if  she  had  been  my  own 
little  daughter,  for  I  like  modesty,  and  have  often 
been  troubled  by  the  forward  manners  of  school 
girls,  who  seem  to  enjoy  being  looked  at.  So  I 
helped  this  one  out  of  her  little  trouble  by  making 
room  between  the  old  gentleman  and  myself,  and 
motioning  her  to  come  and  sit  there. 


144  AUNT  JO'S    SCRAP-BAG. 

She  understood  at  once,  thanked  me  with  a  look, 
and  nestled  into  the  safe  place  so  gratefully,  that 
the  old  gentleman  glared  over  his  spectacles  at  the 
rude  person  who  had  disturbed  the  serenity  of  the 
child. 

Then  we  rumbled  along  again,  the  car  getting 
fuller  and  fuller  as  we  got  down  town.  Presently 
an  Irishwoman,  with  a  baby,  got  in,  and  before  I 
could  offer  my  seat,  my  little  school-girl  was  out 
of  hers,  with  a  polite  — 

"Please  take  it,  ma'am;  I  can  stand  perfectly 
well." 

It  was  prettily  done,  and  I  valued  the  small  cour 
tesy  all  the  more,  because  it  evidently  cost  the 
bashful  creature  an  effort  to  stand  up  alone  in  a  car 
full  of  strangers ;  especially  as  she  could  not  reach 
the  strap  to  steady  herself,  and  found  it  difficult  to 
stand  comfortably. 

Then  it  was  that  the  crusty  man  showed  how  he 
appreciated  my  girl's  good  manners,  for  he  hooked 
his  cane  in  the  strap,  and  gave  it  to  her,  saying, 
with  a  smile  that  lighted  up  his  rough  face  like  sun 
shine,  — 


MY  LITTLE  SCHOOL-GIRL.  145 

«  Hold  on  to  that,  my  dear." 

"  Ah,"  thought  I,  "  how  little  we  can  judge  from 
appearances!  This  grim  old  soul  is  a  gentleman, 
after  all." 

Turning  her  face  towards  us,  the  girl  held  on  to 
the  stout  cane,  and  swayed  easily  to  and  fro  as  we 
bumped  over  the  rails.  The  Irishwoman's  baby,  a 
sickly  little  thing,  was  attracted  by  the  flowers,  and 
put  out  a  small  hand  to  touch  them,  with  a  wistful 
look  at  the  bright  face  above. 

"  Will  baby  have  some  ? "  said  my  girl,  and 
made  the  little  creature  happy  with  some  gay  red 
leaves. 

"Bless  your  heart,  honey,  it's  fond  he  is  of 
the  like  o'  them,  and  seldom  he  gets  any," 
said  the  mother,  gratefully,  as  she  settled  baby's 
dirty  hood,  and  wrapped  the  old  shawl  round  his 
feet. 

Baby  stared  hard  at  the  giver  of  posies,  but  his 
honest  blue  eyes  gave  no  offence,  and  soon  the  two 
were  so  friendly  that  baby  boldly  clutched  at  the 
bright  buttons  on  her  sack,  and  crowed  with 
delight  when  he  got  one,  while  we  all  smiled  at  the 
10 


146  AUNT  JO'S  SCRAP-BAG. 

pretty  play,  and  were  sorry  when  the  little  lady, 
with  a  bow  and  a  smile  to  us,  got  out  at  the  church 
corner. 

"  Now,  I  shall  probably  never  see  that  child 
again,  yet  what  a  pleasant  picture  she  leaves  in 
my  memory !  "  I  thought  to  myself,  as  I  caught  a 
last  glimpse  of  the  brown  hat^  going  round  the 
corner. 

But  I  did  see  her  again  many  times  that  winter  ; 
for  not  long  after,  as  I  passed  down  a  certain  street 
near  my  winter  quarters,  I  came  upon  a  flock  of 
girls,  eating  their  luncheon  as  they  walked  to  and 
fro  on  the  sunny  side,  —  pretty,  merry  creatures,  all 
laughing  and  chattering  at  once,  as  they  tossed 
apples  from  hand  to  hand,  munched  candy,  or  com 
pared  cookies.  I  went  slowly,  to  enjoy  the  sight,  as 
I  do  when  I  meet  a  party  of  sparrows  on  the  Com 
mon,  and  was  wondering  what  would  become  of  so 
many  budding  women,  when,  all  of  a  sudden,  I  saw 
my  little  school-girl. 

Yes,  I  knew  her  in  a  minute,  for  she  wore  the 
same  brown  hat,  and  the  rosy  face  was  sparkling 
with  fun,  as  she  told  secrets  with  a  chosen  friend, 


MY  I ITTLE  SCHOOL-GIRL.  147 

while  eating  a  wholesome  slice  of  bread-and-butter 
as  only  a  hungry  school-girl  could. 

She  did  not  recognize  me,  but  I  took  a  good  look 
at  her  as  I  went  by,  lodging  to  know  what  the  par 
ticular  secret  was  that  ended  in  such  a  gale  of 
laughter. 

After  that,  I  often  saw  my  girl  as  I  took  my 
walks  abroad,  and  one  day  could  not  resist  speaking 
to  her  when  I  met  her  alone;  for 'usually  her  mates 
clustered  round  her  like  bees  about  their  queen, 
which  pleased  me,  since  it  showed  how  much  they 
loved  the  sunshiny  child. 

I  had  a  paper  of  grapes  in  my  hand,  and  when  1 
saw  her  coming,  whisked  out  a  handsome  bunch,  all 
ready  to  offer,  for  I  had  made  up  my  mind  to  speak 
this  time.  She  was  reading  a  paper,  but  looked  up 
to  give  me  the  inside  of  the  walk. 

Before  her  eyes  could  fall  again,  I  held  out  the 
grapes  and  said,  just  as  I  had  heard  her  say  more 
than  once  to  a  schoolmate  at  lunch -time,  "  Let 's  go 
halves." 

She  understood  at  once,  laughed,  and  took  the 
bunch,  saying  with  twinkling  eyes, — 


148  ALNT  JO  >S  SCRAP-BAG. 

"  Oh,  thank  you !  they  are  beauties ! " 

Then,  as  we  went  on  to  the  corner  together,  1 
told  her  why  I  did  it,  and  recalled  the  car-ride. 

"  I  'd  forgotten  all  about  that,  but  my  conductor 
is  very  kind,  and  always  waits  for  me,"  she  said, 
evidently  surprised  that  a  stranger  should  take  an 
interest  in  her  small  self. 

I  did  not  have  half  time  enough  with  her,  for  a 
bell  rang,  and  away  she  skipped,  looking  back  to 
nod  and  smile  at  the  queer  lady  who  had  taken  a 
fancy  to  her. 

A  few  days  afterward  a  fine  nosegay  of  flowers 
was  left  at  the  door  for  me,  and  when  I  asked  the 
servant  who  sent  them  he  answered,  — 

"  A  little  girl  asked  if  a  lame  lady  didn't  live 
here,  and  when  I  said  yes,  she  told  me  to  give  you 
these,  and  say  the  grapes  were  very  nice." 

I  knew  at  once  who  it  was,  and  enjoyed  the 
funny  message  immensely;  for  when  one  leads  a 
quiet  life,  little  things  interest  and  amuse. 

Christmas  was  close  by,  and  I  planned  a  return 
for  the  flowers,  of  a  sort  that  I  fancied  my  young 
friend  would  appreciate. 


MY  LITTLE   SCHOOL-GIRL.  149 

I  knew  that  Christmas  week  would  be  a  holiday, 
so,  the  day  before  it  began,  I  went  to  the  school 
just  before  recess,  and  left  a  frosted  plum  cake, 
directed  to  "Miss  Goldilocks,  from  she  knows 
who." 

At  first  I  did  not  know  how  to  address  my  nice 
white  parcel,  for  I  never  had  heard  the  child's 
name.  But  after  thinking  over  the  matter,  I  re 
membered  that  she  was  the  only  girl  there  with 
yellow  curls  hanging  down  her  back,  so  I  decided 
to  risk  the  cake  with  the  above  direction. 

The  maid  who  took  it  in  (for  my  girl  went  to  a 
private  school)  smiled,  and  said  at  once  she  knew 
who  I  meant.  I  left  my  cake,  and  strolled  round 
the  corner  to  the  house  of  a  friend,  there  to  wait 
and  watch  for  the  success  of  my  joke,  for  the  girls 
always  went  that  way  at  recess. 

Presently  the  little  hats  began  to  go  bobbing  by, 
the  silent  street  to  echo  with  laughter,  and  the  side 
walk  to  bloom  with  gay  gowns,  for  the  girls  were 
all  out  in  winter  colors  now. 

From  behind  a  curtain  I  peeped  at  them,  and 
eaw,  with  great  satisfaction,  that  nearly  all  had  bits 


150  AUNT  JO'S  SCRAP-BAG.    ' 

of  my  cake  in  their  hands,  and  were  talking  it  over 
with  the  most  flattering  interest.  My  particular 
little  girl,  with  a  friend  on  each  arm,  passed  so  near 
me  that  I  could  see  the  happy  look  in  her  eyes, 
and  hear  her  say,  with  a  toss  of  the  bright  hair,  — 

"  Mother  will  plan  it  for  me,  and  I  can  get  it 
done  by  ISTew  Year.  Won't  it  be  fun  to  hang  it  on 
the  door  some  day,  and  then  run?" 

I  fancied  that  she  meant  to  make  something  for 
me,  and  waited  with  patience,  wondering  how  this 
odd  frolic  with  my  little  school-girl  would  end. 

New  Year's  Day  came  and  passed,  but  no  gift 
hung  on  my  door  ;  so  I  made  up  my  mind  it  was 
all  a  mistake,  and,  being  pretty  busy  about  that 
time,  thought  no  more  of  the  matter  till  some  weeks 
later,  as  I  came  into  town  one  day  after  a  visit  in 
the  country. 

I  am  fond  of  observing  faces,  and  seldom  forget 
one  if  anything  has  particularly  attracted  my  atten 
tion  to  it.  So  this  morning,  as  I  rode  along,  I 
looked  at  the  conductor,  as  there  was  no  one  else 
to  observe,  and  he  had  a  pleasant  sort  of  face. 
Somehow,  it  looked  familiar,  and  after  thinking 


MY  LITTLE  SCHOOL-GIRL.  151 

idly  about  it  for  a  minute,  I  remembered  where  I 
had  seen  it  before. 

He  was  the  man  who  waited  for  <;  little  missy," 
and  I  at  once  began  to  hope  that  she  would  come 
again,  for  I  wanted  to  ask  about  the  holidays,  re 
membering  how  "  fond  of  fun  "  she  was. 

When  we  came  to  the  South  End  Square,  where 
I  met  her  first,  I  looked  out,  expecting  to  see  the 
little  figure  running  down  the  wide  path  again,  and 
quite  willing  to  wait  for  it  a  long  time  if  necessary. 
But  no  one  was  to  be  seen  but  two  boys  and  a  dog. 
The  car  did  not  stop,  and  though  the  conductor 
looked  out  that  way,  his  hand  was  not  on  the  strap, 
and  no  smile  on  his  face. 

"Don't  you  wait  for  the  little  girl  now?"  I 
asked,  feeling  disappointed  at  not  seeing  my  pretty 
friend  again. 

"I  wish  I  could,  ma'am,"  answered  the  man, 
understanding  at  once,  though  of  course  he  did  not 
remember  me. 

"New  rules,  perhaps?"  I  added,  as  he  did  not 
explain,  but  stood  fingering  his  punch,  and  never 
minding  an  old  lady,  wildly  waving  her  bag  at  him 
from  the  sidewalk. 


1 52  A  UNT  JO 'S  SCRAP-BA  G. 

"No,  ma'am;  but  it's  no  use  waiting  for  little 
missy  any  more,  because" — here  he  leaned  in  and 
said,  very  low,  —  "she  is  dead;"  then  turned 
Bharply  round,  rung  the  bell,  put  the  old  lady  in 
jind  shut  the  door. 

How  grieved  I  was  to  have  that  pleasant  friend 
ship  end  so  sadly,  for  I  had  planned  many  small 
surprises  for  my  girl,  and  now  I  could  do  no  more, 
could  never  know  all  about  her,  never  see  the  sunny 
face  again,  or  win  another  word  from  lips  that 
seemed  made  for  smiling. 

Only  a  little  school-girl,  yet  how  many  friends  she 
seemed  to  have,  making  them  unconsciously  by  her 
gentle  manners,  generous  actions,  and  innocent 
light-heartedness.  I  could  not  bear  to  think  what 
home  must  be  without  her,  for  I  am  sure  I  was 
right  in  believing  her  a  good,  sweet  child,  because 
real  character  shows  itself  in  little  things,  and  the 
heart  that  always  keeps  in  tune  makes  its  music 
heard  everywhere. 

The  busy  man  of  the  horse-car  found  time  to  miss 
her,  the  schoolmates  evidently  mourned  their  queen, 
for  when  I  met  them  they  walked  quietly,  talked 


MY  LITTLE  SCHOOL-GIRL.  153 

low,  and  several  wore  black  bows  upon  the  sleeve; 
while  I,  although  I  never  knew  her  name,  or 
learned  a  single  fact  about  her,  felt  the  sweetness 
of  her  happy  nature,  and  have  not  yet  forgotten 
my  little  school-girl. 


WHAT  A  SHOVEL  DID. 

A  S  my  friend  stood  by  the  window,  watching 
the  "soft  falling  snow,"  I  saw  him  smile, — 
a  thoughtful  yet  a  very  happy  smile,  and,  anxious  to 
know  what  brought  it,  I  asked,  — 

"What  do  you  see  out  there  ?" 

"  Myself,"  was  the  answer  that  made  me  stare  in 
surprise,  as  I  joined  him  and  looked  curiously  into 
the  street. 

All  I  saw  was  a  man  shovelling  snow ;  and, 
thoroughly  puzzled,  I  turned  to  Richard,  demand 
ing  an  explanation.  He  laughed,  and  answered 
readily,  — 

"  While  we  wait  for  Kate  and  the  children,  I  '11 
tell  you  a  little  adventure  of  mine.  It  may  be  useful 
to  you  some  day. 

"  Fifteen  years  ago,  on  a  Sunday  morning  like 
this,  I  stood  at  the  window  of  a  fireless,  shabby 


WHAT  A   SHOVEL  DID.  155 

little  room,  without  one  cent  in  my  pocket,  and  no 
prospect  of  getting  one. 

"  I  had  gone  supperless  to  bed,  and  spent  the  long 
night  asking,  *  What  shall  I  do?'  and,  receiving  no 
reply  but  that  which  is  so  hard  for  eager  youth  to 
accept,  '  Wait  and  trust.' 

"  I  was  alone  in  the  world,  with  no  fortune  but 
my  own  talent,  and  even  that  I  was  beginning  to 
doubt,  because  it  brought  no  money.  For  a  year  I 
had  worked  and  hoped,  with  a  brave  spirit ;  had 
written  my  life  into  poems  and  tales  ;  tried  a  play  ; 
turned  critic  and  reviewed  books ;  offered  my  pen 
and  time  to  any  one  who  would  employ  them,  and 
now  was  ready  for  the  hardest  literary  work,  and 
the  poorest  pay,  for  starvation  stared  me  in  the 
face. 

"  All  my  ventures  failed,  and  my  paper  boats 
freighted  with  so  many  high  hopes,  went  down  one 
after  another,  leaving  me  to  despair.  ,  The  last 
wreck  lay  on  my  table  then,  —  a  novel,  worn  with 
much  journeying  to  and  fro,  on  which  I  had  staked 
my  last  chance,  and  lost  it. 

"  As  I  stood  there  at  my  window,  cold  and  hun- 


156  AUNT  JO'S  SCRAP-BAG. 

gry,  solitary  and  despairing,  I  said  to  myself,  in  a 
desperate  mood, — 

"  '  It  is  all  a  mistake  ;  I  have  no  talent,  and  there 
is  no  room  in  the  world  for  me,  so  the  quicker  I  get 
out  of  it  the  better.' 

"  Just  then  a  little  chap  came  from  a  gate  oppo 
site,  with  a  shovel  on  his  shoulder,  and  trudged 
away,  whistling  shrilly,  to  look  for  a  job.  I  watched 
him  out  of  sight,  thinking  bitterly,  — 

"  '  Now  look  at  the  injustice  of  it !  Here  am  I,  a 
young  man  full  of  brains,  starving  because  no  one 
will  give  me  a  chance ;  and  there  is  that  ignorant 
little  fellow  making  a  living  with  an  old  shovel ! ' 

A  voice  seemed  to  answer  me,  saying,  — 

"  '  \\7hy  don't  you  do  the  same  ?  If  brains  don't 
pay,  try  muscles,  and  thank  God  that  you  have 
health.' 

"  Of  course  it  was  only  my  own  pluck  and  com 
mon  sense;  but  I  declare  to  you  I  was  as  much 
struck  by  the  new  idea  as  if  a  strange  voice  had 
actually  spoken  ;  and  I  answered,  heartily, — 

" '  As  I  live  I  will  try  it !  and  not  give  up  while 
there  is  any  honest  work  for  these  hands  to  do.' 


WHAT  A   SHOVEL  DID.  157 

"With  sudden  energy  I  put  on  my  shabbiest 
clothes,  —  and  they  were  very  shabby,  of  course, 
added  an  old  cap  and  rough  comforter,  as  disguise, 
and  stole  down  to  the  shed  where  I  had  seen  a 
shovel.  It  was  early,  and  the  house  was  very  quiet, 
for  the  other  lodgers  were  hard  workers  all  the 
week,  and  took  their  rest  Sunday  morning. 

"  Unseen  by  the  sleepy  girl  making  her  fires,  I 
got  the  shovel  and  stole  away  by  the  back  gate, 
feeling  like  a  boy  out  on  a  frolic.  It  was  bitter  cold, 
and  a  heavy  snow-storm  had  raged  all  night.  The 
streets  were  full  of  drifts,  and  the  city  looked  as  if 
dead,  for  no  one  was  stirring  yet  but  milkmen,  and 
other  poor  fellows  like  me,  seeking  for  an  early 
job. 

"  I  made  my  way  to  the  West  End,  and  was  try 
ing  to  decide  at  which  of  the  tall  houses  to  apply 
first,  when  the  door  of  one  opened,  and  a  pretty 
housemaid  appeared,  broom  in  hand. 

"  At  sight  of  the  snowy  wilderness  she  looked 
dismayed,  and  with  a  few  unavailing  strokes  of  her 
broom  at  the  drift  on  the  steps,  was  about  to  go  in, 
when  her  eye  fell  on  me. 


158  AUNT  JO'S  SCRAP-BAG. 

"  My  shovel  explained  my  mission,  and  she  beck 
oned  with  an  imperious  wave  of  her  duster  to  the 
shabby  man  opposite.  I  ploughed  across,  and  re 
ceived  in  silence  the  order  to  — 

" '  Clear  thorn  steps  and  sidewalk,  and  sweep  'em 
nice,  for  our  folks  always  go  to  church,  rain  or  shine.' 

"  Then  leaving  her  broom  outside,  the  maid 
slammed  the  door  with  a  shiver,  and  I  fell  to  work 
manfully.  It  was  a  heavy  job,  and  my  hands, 
unused  to  .any  heavier  tool  than  a  pen,  were  soon 
blistered ;  but  I  tugged  away,  and  presently  found 
myself  much  stimulated  by  the  critical  and  approv 
ing  glances  bestowed  upon  me  by  the  pretty  girl, 
taking  breakfast  in  the  basement  with  a  buxom 
cook  and  a  friend,  who  had  evidently  dropped  in  on 
her  way  home  from  early  Mass. 

"  I  was  a  young  fellow,  and  in  spite  of  my  late 
despair,  the  fun  of  the  thing  tickled  me  immensely, 
and  I  laughed  behind  my  old  tippet,  as  I  shovelled 
and  swept  with  a  vigor  that  caused  the  stout  cook 
to  smile  upon  me. 

4 

"  When  the  job  was  done,  and  I  went  to  the 
lower  door  for  my  well-earned  pay,  the  maid  said, 


WHAT  A   SHOVEL  DID.  159 

with  condescension,  as  she  glanced  coquettishly  at 
my  ruddy  face  and  eyes  that  twinkled  under  the  old 
cap,  I  suspect,  — 

" l  You  can  wait  here  while  I  run  up,  and  get  the 
money,  if  master  is  awake.' 

" 4  Ye  haren't  the  heart  of  a  woman,  Mary,  to 
kape  the  poor  crater  out  there  when  it 's  kilt  wid 
the  could  he  is,'  said  the  buxom  cook ;  adding,  in  a 
motherly  tone,  *  Come  in  wid  yez,  my  man,  and  set 
till  the  fire,  for  it's  bitter  weather  the  day.' 

" '  Faix  an'  it  is,  ma'm,  thankin'  ye  kindly,'  I 
answered,  with  a  fine  brogue,  for  as  a  lad  I  had 
played  the  Irishman  with  success. 

"  The  good  soul  warmed  to  me  at  once,  and, 
filling  a  mug  with  coffee,  gave  it  to  me  with  a 
hearty  — 

"  *  A  hot  sup  will  do  you  no  harrum,  me  b'y,  and 
sure  in  the  blessid  Christmas  time  that's  just  fore- 
ninst  us,  the  master  won't  begrudge  ye  a  breakfast ; 
so  take  a  biscuit  and  a  sassage,  for  it's  like  ye 
haven't  had  a  mouthful  betwixt  your  lips  the  day.' 

" 4  That  I  will,'  said  I ;  '  and  it 's  good  luck  and  a 
long  life  to  ye  I  'm  drinkin'  in  Xhis  illegint  coffee.' 


160  AUNT  JO'S  SCRAP-BAG. 

"  <  Bless  the  b'y !  but  it's  a  grateful  heart  he  has, 
and  a  blue  eye  as  like  my  Pat  as  two  pays,'  cried 
the  cook,  regarding  me  with  increasing  favor,  as  I 
bolted  the  breakfast  which  I  should  have  been  too 
proud  to  accept  from  any  hand  less  humble. 

"  Here  the  guest  asked  a  question  concerning  Pat, 
and  instantly  the  mother  gushed  into  praises  of  her 
boy,  telling  in  a  few  picturesque  words,  as  only  an 
Irishwoman  could  do  it,  how  Pat  had  come  to 
'  Ameriky '  first  when  things  went  hard  with  them 
in  the  '  ould  country,'  and  how  good  he  was  in 
sending  home  his  wages  till  she  could  join  him. 

"  How  she  came,  but  could  not  find  her  '  b'y, 
because  of  the  loss  of  the  letter  with  his  address,  and 
how  for  a  year  she  waited  and  watched,  sure  that 
he  would  find  her  at  last.  How  the  saints  had  an 
eye  on  him,  and  one  happy  day  answered  her 
prayers  in  a  way  that  she  considered  '  aquil  to  any 
merrycle  ever  seen.'  For,  looking  up  from  her 
work,  who  should  she  see,  in  a  fine  livery,  sitting  on 
the  box  of  a  fine  carriage  at  the  master's  door,  but 
'  her  own  b'y,  like  a  king  in  his  glory.' 

"  4  Arrah,  ye  should  have  seen  me  go  up  thim 


WHAT  A   SHOVEL  DID.  161 

steps,  Katy,  and  my  Pat  come  off  that  box  like  an 
angel  flyin',  and  the  way  he  tuk  me  in  his  arms, 
never  mindin'  his  illigint  coat,  and  me  all  dirt 
a-blackin'  me  range.  Ah'r,  but  I  was  a  happy 
crayter  that  day ! ' 

"  Here  the  good  soul  stopped  to  wipe  away  the 
tears  that  were  shining  on  her  fat  cheeks,  and  Mary 
appeared  with  a  dollar,  '  for  master  said  it  was  a 
tough  job  and  well  done.' 

" '  May  his  bed  be  aisy  above,  darlin',  and  many 
thanks,  and  the  compliments  of  the  sayson  to  ye, 
ladies.' 

"  With  which  grateful  farewell  I  trudged  away, 
well  pleased  at  the  success  of  my  first  attempt. 
Refreshed  and  cheered  by  the  kindness  of  my 
humble  hostess,  I  took  heart,  and  worked  away  at 
my  next  job  with  redoubled  energy,  and  by  the 
time  the  first  bells  rang  for  church,  I  had  three 
dollars  in  my  pocket.  My  blood  danced  in  my 
veins,  and  all  my  despair  seemed  shovelled  away 
with  the  snow  I  had  cleared  from  other  people's 
paths. 

"  My  back  ached,  and  my  palms  were  sore,  but 
11 


162  AUNT  JO'S  SCRAP-BAG. 

heart  and  soul  were  in  tune  again,  and  hurrying 
home,  I  dressed  and  went  to  church,  feeling  that  a 
special  thanksgiving  was  due  for  the  lesson  I  had 
learned. 

"  Christmas  garlands  hung  upon  the  walls,  Christ 
mas  music  rolled  through  the  church,  and  Christmas 
sermon,  prayer,  and  psalm  cheered  the  hearts  of  all. 
But  the  shabby  young  man  in  the  back  seat  found 
such  beauty  and  comfort  in  the  service  of  that  day 
that  he  never  forgot  it,  for  it  was  the  turning-point 
of  his  life." 

My  friend  fell  silent  for  a  minute,  and  I  sat,  con 
trasting  that  past  of  his,  with  the  happy  present, 
for  he  was  a  prosperous  man  now,  with  an  honored 
name,  a  comfortable  fortune,  and  best  of  all,  a 
noble  wife,  and  some  brave  lads  to  follow  in  his 
footsteps. 

Presently  I  could  not  resist  asking,  — 

"  Did  you  go  on  shovelling,  Dick  ?  " 

"  Not  long,  for  there  was  no  need  of  it,  thanks  to 
Pat's  mother,"  he  answered  smiling. 

"  Come,  I  must  have  all  the  story,  for  I  know  it 
has  a  sequel !  " 


WHAT  A   SHOVEL  DID,  163 

"  A  very  happy  one.  Yes,  I  owe  to  that  kind 
soul  and  her  little  story,  the  turn  that  Fortune  gave 
her  wheel.  Nay,  rather  say,  the  touch  of  nature 
that  makes  the  whole  world  kin.  For  when  I  went 
home  that  day,  I  sat  down  and  made  a  simple  tale 
from  the  hint  she  gave,  and  something  of  her  own 
humor  and  pathos  must  have  got  into  it,  for  it  was 
-accepted,  and  more  stories  solicited,  to  my  great 
surprise. 

"  I  wrote  it  to  please  myself,  for  I  was  in  a  happy 
mood ;  and  though  my  room  was  cold,  the  sun 
shone  ;  though  my  closet  was  bare,  honest  money 
was  in  my  pocket,  and  I  felt  as  rich  as  a  king. 

"  I  remember  I  laughed  at  myself  as  I  posted  the 
manuscript  on  Monday  morning,  called  it  infatua 
tion,  and  th'ought  no  more  of  it  for  days,  being  busy 
with  my  new  friend,  the  shovel. 

"  Snow  was  gone,  but  coal  remained,  and  I  put  in 
tons  of  it  with  a  will,  for  this  active  labor  was  the 
tonic  my  overwrought  nerves  needed,  and  my  spirits 
rose  wonderfully,  as  muscles  earned  the  daily  bread 
that  brains  had  failed  to  win. 

"Ah!    but  they  brought   me   something  better 


164  AUNT  JO'S  SCRAP-BAG. 

than  bread,  Mearer  than  fame ;  and  to  that  old 
shovel  I  owe  the  happiness  of  my  life !  The  very 
day  I  got  the  letter  accepting  the  little  story,  I  was 
gaily  putting  in  my  last  ton  of  coal,  for  I  felt  that 
now  I  might  take  up  the  pen  again,  since  in  a 
kitchen  I  had  discovered  the  magic  that  wins  lis 
teners. 

"Bless  my  heart!  how  I  worked  and  how  I 
whistled,  I  was  so  happy,  and  felt  so  lifted  above 
all  doubt  and  fear  by  the  knowledge  that  my 
talent  was  not  a  failure,  and  the  fact  that  my 
own  strong  arms  could  keep  the  wolf  from  the 
door! 

"  I  was  so  busy  that  I  had  not  observed  a  lady 
watching  me  from  the  window.  She  had  opened  it 
to  feed  the  hungry  sparrows,  and  my  whistle  caught 
her  ear,  for  it  was  an  air  she  knew,  and  had  heard 
a  certain  young  man  sing  before  he  dropped  out 
of  her  circle,  and  left  her  wondering  sadly  what  had 
befallen  him. 

"All  this  I  learned  afterward;  then  I  uncon 
sciously  piped  away  till  my  job  was  done,  wiped  my 
hot  faue,  and  went  in  to  get  my  money.  To  my  sur- 


*  WHAT  A   SHOVEL  DID.  165 

prise  I  was  told  to  '  go  into  the  dining  room,  and 
missis  would  attend  to  it.' 

"  I  went  and  found  myself  face  to  face,  not  with 
*  missis,'  but  the  woman  I  had  loved  hopelessly  but 
faithfully  all  that  hard  year,  since  1  had  gone  away 
to  fight  my  battle  alone. 

"For  a  moment  I  believed  she  did  not  know 
me,  in  my  shabby  suit  and  besmirched  face.  But 
she  did,  and  with  a  world  of  feeling  in  her  own 
sweet  face,  she  offered  me,  not  money,  but  her 
hand,  saying  in  a  voice  that  made  my  heart  leap 
up,— 

" 4  Richard,  I  was  afraid  you  had  gone  down  as 
so  many  disappointed  young  men  go  when  their 
ambitious  hopes  fail ;  but  I  am  so  glad,  so  proud 
to  see  in  your  face  that  you  still  work  and  wait, 
like  a  brave  and  honest  man.  I  must  speak  to 
you!'  ^ 

"  What  could  I  do  after  that  but  hold  the  white 
hand  fast  in  both  _my  grimy  ones,  while  I  told 
my  little  story,  and  the  hope  that  had  come  at  last. 
Heaven  knows  I  told  it  very  badly,  for  those  tender 
eye«  were  upon  me  all  the  time,  so  full  of  unspoken 


166  AUNT  JO'S  SCRAP-BAG.   * 

love  and  pity,  admiration  and  respect,  that  I  felt 
like  one  in  a  glorified  dream,  and  forgot  I  was  a 
coal-heaver. 

"  That  was  the  last  of  it,  though,  and  the  next 
time  I  came  to  see  my  Kate  it  was  with  clean 
hands,  that  carried  her,  as  a  first  love-token,  the 
little  tale  which  was  the  foundation-stone  of  this 
happy  home." 

He  stopped  there,  and  his  face  brightened  beauti 
fully,  for  the  sound  of  little  feet  approached,  and 
childish  voices  cried  eagerly,  — 

"  Papa !  papa  !  the  snow  has  come !  May  we  go 
and  shovel  off  the  steps  ?  " 

"  Yes,  my  lads,  and  mind  you  do  it  well ;  for 
some  day  you  may  have  to  earn  your  breakfast," 
answered  Dick,  as  three  fine  boys  came  prancing  in, 
full  of  delight  at  the  first  snow-fall. 

"  These  fellows  have  a  passion  for  shovelling 
which  they  inherit  from  their  father,"  he  added, 
with  a  twinkle  of  the  eye  that  told  Mrs.  Kate  what 
we  had  been  talking  about. 

It  was  sweet  to  see  with  what  tender  pride  she 
took  the  hand  he  stretched  out  to  her,  and  holding 


WHAT  A   SHOVEL  DID.  167 

it  in  both  her  own,  said,  with  her  eyes  upon  her 

boys,  — 

« I  hope  they  will  inherit  not  only  their  father's 
respect  for  honest  work,  but  the  genius  that  can  see 
and  paint  truth  and  beauty  in  the  humble  things  of 
this  world." 


XI. 

CLAMS. 

A    GHOST     STOKY. 

"  T  HAVEN'T  a  room  in  the  house,  ma'am,  but  if 
you  don't  mind  going  down  to  the  cottage, 
and  coming  up  here  to  your  meals,  I  can  accommo 
date  you,  and  would  be  glad  to,"  said  Mrs.  Grant, 
in  answer  to  my  demand  for  board. 

"Where  is  the  cottage?"  and  I  looked  about 
me,  feeling  ready  to  accept  anything  in  the  way  of 
shelter,  after  the  long,  hot  journey  from  broiling 
Boston,  to  breezy  York  Harbor. 

"  Right  down  there,  just  a  step,  you  see.  It's  all 
in  order,  and  next  week  it  will  be  full,  for  many 
folks  prefer  it  because  of  the  quiet." 

At  the  end  of  a  precipitous  path,  which  offered 
every  facility  for  accidents  of  all  sorts,  from  a 
sprained  ankle  to  a  broken  nefck,  stood  the  cottage,  a 
little  white  building  with  a  pretty  woodbine  over  the 


CLAMS.  169 

porch,  gay  flowers  in  the  garden,  and  the  blue  At 
lantic  rolling  up  at  the  foot  of  the  cliff. 

"  A  regular  *  Cottage  by  the  Sea.'  It  will  suit 
me  exactly  if  I  can  have  that  front  upper  room.  I 
don't  mind  being  alone,  so  have  my  trunk  taken 
down,  please,  and  I'll  get  ready  for  tea,"  said  I, 
congratulating  myself  on  my  good  luck.  Alas,  how 
little  I  knew  what  a  night  of  terror  I  was  to  pass  in 
that  picturesque  abode ! 

An  hour  later,  refreshed  by  my  tea  and  invigor 
ated  by  the  delicious  coolness,  I  plunged  recklessly 
into  the  gayeties  of  the  season,  and  accepted  two 
invitations  for  the  evening,  —  one  to  a  stroll  on  Sun 
set  Hill,  the  other  to  a  clam-bake  on  the  beach. 

The  stroll  came  first,  and  while  my  friend  paused 
at  one  of  the  fishily-fragrant  houses  by  the  way,  to 
interview  her  washerwoman,  I  went  on  to  the  hill 
top,  where  a  nautical  old  gentleman  with  a  spy-glass, 
welcomed  me  with  the  amiable  remark,  — 

"  Pretty  likely  place  for  a  prospeck." 

Entering  into  a  conversation  with  this  ancient 
mariner,  I  asked  if  he  knew  any  legend  or  stories 
concerning  the  old  houses  all  about  us. 


170  AUNT  JO'S  SCRAP-BAG. 

"  Sights  of  'em ;  but  it  aint  allers  the  old  places 
as  has  the  most  stories  concernin'  'em.  Why,  that 
cottage  down  yonder  aint  more  'n  fifty  year  old,  and 
they  say  there 's  been  a  lot  of  ghosts  seen  there, 
owin'  to  a  man's  killin'  of  himself  in  the  back  bed 
room." 

"  What,  that  house  at  the  end  of  the  lane?"  I 
asked,  with  sudden  interest. 

"  Jes'  so  ;  nice  place,  but  lonesome  and  damp 
ish.  Ghosts  and  toadstools  is  apt  to  locate  in 
nouses  of  that  sort,"  placidly  responded  the  vener 
able  tar. 

The  dampness  scared  me  more  than  the  goblins, 
for  I  never  saw  a  ghost  yet,  but  I  had  been  haunted 
by  rheumatism,  and  found  it  a  hard  fi.end  to  exorcise. 

11 1  Ve  taken  a  room  there,  so  I  'm  rather  interested 
in  knowing  what  company  I  'm  to  have." 

"  Took  a  room,  hev  you  ?  Wai,  I  dare  say  you 
won't  be  troubled.  Some  folks  have  a  knack  of  see 
ing  sperrits,  and  then  agin  some  hasn't.  My  wife  is 
uncommon  powerful  that  way,  but  I  aint ;  my  sight 's 
dreadful  poor  for  that  sort  of  critter." 

There  was  such  a  sly  twinkle  in  the  starboard  eye 


CLAMS.  171 

of  the  old  fellow  as  he  spoke,  that  I  laughed  out 
right,  and  asked,  sociably,  — 

*'  Has  she  ever  seen  the  ghosts  of  the  cottage  ?  I 
think  /  have  rather  a  knack  that  way,  and  I  'd  like 
to  know  what  to  expect." 

"No,  her  sort  is  the  rappin'  kind.  Down  yonder 
the  only  ghost  I  take  much  stock  in  is  old  Bezee 
Tucker's.  He  killed  himself  in  the  back  bedroom, 
and  some  folks  say  they  've  heard  him  groanin'  there 
nights,  and  a  drippin'  sound ;  he  bled  to  death,  you 
know.  It  was  kep'  quiet  at  the  time,  and  is  forgot 
ten  now  by  all  but  a  few  old  chaps  like  me.  Bezee 
was  allers  civil  to  the  ladies,  so  I  guess  he  won't 
bother  you,  ma'am ;"  and  the  old  fellow  laughed. 

"  If  he  does,  I  '11  let  you  know ; "  and  with  that 
I  departed,  for  my  friend  called  to  me  that  the 
beach  party  was  clamoring  for  our  company. 

In  the  delights  of  that  festive  hour,  I  forgot  the 
croaking  of  the  ancient  mariner,  for  I  was  about  to 
taste  a  clam  for  the  first  time  in  my  life,  and  it  was 
a  most  absorbing  moment.  Perched  about  on  the 
rocks  like  hungry  penguins,  we  watched  the  jovial 
cooks  with  breathless  interest,  as  they  struggled 


172  AUNT  JO'S   SCRAP-BAG. 

with  refractory  frying-pans,  fish  that  stubbornly  re 
fused  to  brown,  steaming  seaweed  and  hot  stones. 

A  certain  captivating  little  Margie  waited  upon 
me  so  prettily  that  I  should  have  been  tempted  to 
try  a  yea  porcupine  unskinned  if  she  had  offered  it, 
so  irresistible  was  her  chirping  way  of  saying,  "  Oh, 
here  's  a  perfectly  lovely  one  !  Do  take  him  by  his 
little  black  head  and  eat  him  quick." 

So  beguiled,  I  indulged  recklessly  in  clams,  served 
hot  between  two  shells,  little  dreaming  what  a  price 
I  was  to  pay  for  that  marine  banquet. 

We  kept  up  till  late,  and  then  I  was  left  at  my 
own  door  by  my  friend,  who  informed  me  that  York 
was  a  very  primitive,  safe  place,  where  people  slept 
with  unlocked  doors,  and  nothing  ever  went  amiss 
o'  nights. 

I  said  nothing  of  the  ghosts,  being  ashamed  to 
own  that  I  quaked  a  little  at  the  idea  of  the  "  back 
bedroom,"  as  I  shut  out  the  friendly  faces  and  bolted 
myself  in. 

A  lamp  and  matches  stood  in  the  hall,  and  light 
ing  the  lamp,  I  whisked  up  stairs  with  suspicious 
rapidity,  locked  my  door  and  retired  to  bed,  firmly 


CLAMS.  173 

refusing  to  own  even  to  myseli  that  I  had  ever  heard 
the  name  of  Bezee  Tucker. 

Being  very  tired,  I  soon  fell  asleep ;  but  fried  po 
tatoes  and  a  dozen  or  two  of  hot  clams  are  not  viands 
best  fitted  to  insure  quiet  repose,  so  a  fit  of  night 
mare  brought  me  to  a  realizing  sense  of  my  indis 
cretion. 

From  a  chaos  of  wild  dreams  was  finally  evolved 
a  gigantic  clam,  whose  mission  it  was  to  devour  me 
as  I  had  devoured  its  relatives.  The  sharp  shells 
gaped  before  me,  a  solemn  voice  said,  "  Take  her  by 
her  little  head  and  eat  her  quick."  Retribution  was 
at  hand,  and,  with  a  despairing  effort  to  escape  by 
diving,  I  bumped  my  head  smartly  against  the  wall, 
and  woke  up  feeling  as  if  there  was  an  earthquake 
under  the  bed. 

Collecting  my  scattered  wits,  I  tried  to  compose 
myself  to  slumber  again ;  but  alas !  that  fatal  feast 
hal  murdered  sleep,  and  I  vainly  tried  to  lull  my 
wakeful  senses  with  the  rustle  of  woodbine  leaves 
about  the  window,  and  the  breaking  waves  upon  the 
beach. 

In  one  of  the  pauses  between  the  ebb  and  flow  of 


174  AUNT  JO'S  SCRAP-BAG. 

the  waves,  I  heard  a  curious  sound  in  the  house,— 
a  muffled  sort  of  moan,  coming  at  regular  intervals. 
And,  as  I  sat  up  to  make  out  where  it  was,  another 
sound  caught  my  attentive  ear.  Drip,  drip,  drip, 
went  something  out  in  the  hall,  and  in  an  instant 
the  tale  told  me  on  Sunset  Hill  came  back  with 
unpleasant  vividness. 

"  Nonsense !  it  is  raining,  and  the  roof  leaks,"  I 
said  to  myself,  while  a  disagreeable  thrill  went 
through  me,  and  fancy,  aided  by  indigestion,  began 
to  people  the  house  with  uncanny  inmates. 

No  rain  had  fallen  for  weeks,  and  peeping  through 
my  curtain  I  saw  the  big,  bright  stars  shining  in  a 
cloudless  sky ;  so  that  explanation  failed,  and  still 
the  drip,  drip,  drip  went  on.  Likewise  the  moaning, 
so  distinctly  now  that  it  was  evident  the  little  back 
bedroom  was  next  the  chamber  in  which  I  was 
quaking  at  that  identical  moment. 

"Some  one  is  sleeping  there,"  I  said,  and  then 
recollected  that  all  the  rooms  were  locked,  and  all 
the  keys  but  mine  in  Mrs.  Grant's  pocket  up  at  the 
house. 

"Well,  let  the  goblins  enjoy  themselves;  I  won't 


CLAMS.  175 

disturb  them  if  they  let  me  alone.  Some  of  the 
ladies  thought  me  brave  to  dare  to  sleep  here,  and 
it  will  never  do  to  own  I  was  scared  by  a  foolish 
story  and  an  odd  sound." 

So  down  I  lay,  and  said  the  multiplication  table 
industriously  for  several  minutes,  trying  to  turn  a 
deaf  ear  to  the  outer  world,  and  curb  my  unruly 
thoughts.  But  it  was  a  failure,  and,  when  I  found 
myself  saying  over  and  over  "  Four  times  twelve  is  . 
twenty-four,"  I  gave  up  affecting  courage,  and  went 
in  for  a  good  honest  scare. 

As  a  cheerful  subject  for  midnight  meditation  I 
kept  thinking  of  B.  Tucker,  in  spite  of  e*very  effort 
to  abstain.  In  vain  I  recalled  the  fact  that  the  de 
parted  gentleman  was  "allers  civil  to  the  ladies." 
I  still  was  in  mortal  fear  lest  he  might  think  it 
necessary  to  come  and  apologize  in  person  for 
"  bothering  "  me. 

Presently  a  clock  struck  three,  and  I  involuntarily 
gave  a  groan  that  beat  the  ghost's  all  hollow,  so  full 
of  anguish  was  I  at  the  thought  of  several  hours  of 
weary  waiting  in  such  awesome  suspense. 

I  was  not  sure  at  what  time  the  daylight  would 


176  AUNT  JO'S  SCRAP-BAG. 

appear,  and  bitterly  regretted  not  gathering  useful 
information  about  sunrise,  tides,  and  such  things, 
instead  of  listening  to  the  foolish  gossip  of  Uncle 
Peter  on  the  hill-top. 

Minute  after  minute  dragged  slowly  on,  and  I  was 
just  thinking  that  I  should  be  obliged  to  shout 
"  Fire  ! "  as  the  only  means  of  relief  in  my  power, 
when  a  stealthy  step  under  the  window  gave  me  a 
new  sensation. 

This  was  a  start,  not  a  scare,  for  the  new  visitor 
was  a  human  foe,  and  I  had  little  fear  of  such, 
being  possessed  of  good  lungs,  strong  arms,  and  a 
Roman  dagger  nearly  as  big  as  a  carving-knife. 
That  step  broke  the  spell,  and,  creeping  noiselessly 
to  the  window,  I  peeped  out  to  see  a  dark  figure 
coming  up  the  stem  of  the  tall  tree  close  by,  hand 
over  hand,  like  a  sailor  or  a  monkey. 

"  Two  can  play  at  that  game,  my  friend ;  you 
scare  me,  and  I'll  scare  you;"  and  with  an  actual 
sense  of  relief  in  breaking  the  oppressive  silence,  I 
suddenly  flung  up  the  curtain,  and,  leaning  out, 
brandished  my  dagger  with  what  I  intended  to  be 
an  awe-inspiring  screech,  but,  owing  to  the  flutter 


CLAMS.  177 

of  my  breath,  the  effort  ended  in  a  curious  mixture 
of  howl  and  bray. 

A  most  effective  sound  nevertheless ;  for  the 
rascal  dropped  as  if  shot,  and,  with  one  upward 
glance  at  the  white  figure  dimly  seen  in  the  star 
light,  fled  as  if  a  legion  of  goblins  were  at  his  heels. 

"What  next?"  thought  I,  wondering  whether 
tragedy  or  comedy  would  close  this  eventful  night. 

I  sat  and  waited,  chilly,  but  valiant,  while  the 
weird  sounds  went  on  within,  and  silence  reigned 
without,  till  the  cheerful  crow  of  the  punctual 
"  cockadoo,"  as  Margie  called  him,  announced  the 
dawn  and  laid  the  ghosts.  A  red  glow  in  the  east 
banished  my  last  fear,  and,  wrapping  the  drapery  of 
my  couch  about  me,  I  soon  lay  down  to  quiet 
slumber,  quite  worn  out. 

The  sun  shining  in  my  face  waked  me ;  a  bell 
ringing  spasmodically  warned  me  to  hurry,  and  a 
childish  voice  calling  out,  u  Bet-fast  is  most  weady, 
Miss  Wee,"  assured  me  that  sweet  little  spirits 
haunted  the  cottage  as  well  as  ghostly  ones. 

As  I  left  my  room  to  join  Margie,  who  was  wait 
ing  in  the  porch,  and  looking  like  a  rosy  morning- 
12 


178  AUNT  JO'S  SCRAP-BAG. 

glory  half-way  up  the  woodbine  trellis,  I  saw  two 
things  which  caused  me  to  feel  that  the  horrors  of 
the  night  were  not  all  imaginary. 

Just  outside  the  back  bedroom  door  was  a  damp 
place,  as  if  that  part  of  the  floor  had  been  newly 
washed;  and  when,  goaded  by  curiosity,  I  peeped 
through  the  keyhole  of  the  haunted  chamber,  my 
eye  distinctly  saw  an  open  razor  lying  on  a  dusty 
table. 

My  vision  was  limited  to  that  one  object,  but  it 
was  quite  enough,  and  I  went  up  the  hill  brooding 
darkly  over  the  secret  hidden  in  my  breast.  I 
longed  to  tell  some  one,  but  was  ashamed,  and,  when 
asked  why  so  pale  and  absent-minded,  I  answered, 
with  a  gloomy  smile,  — 

"  It  is  the  clams." 

* 

All  day  I  hid  my  sufferings  pretty  well,  but  as 
night  approached,  and  I  thought  of  another  lonely 
vigil  in  the  haunted  cottage,  my  heart  began  to  fail, 
and,  when  we  sat  telling  stories  in  the  dusk,  a  bril 
liant  idea  came  into  my  head. 

I  w^ould  relate  my  ghost  story,  and  rouse  the 
curiosity  of  the  listeners  to  such  a  pitch  that  some 


CLAMS.  179 

of  them  would  offer  to  share  my  quarters,  in  hopes 
of  seeing  the  spirit  of  the  restless  Tucker. 

'Cheered  by  this  delusive  fancy,  when  my  turn 
came  I  made  a  thrilling  tale  of  the  night's  adven 
tures,  and,  having  worked  my  audience  up  to  a  flat 
tering  state  of  excitement,  paused  for  applause. 

It  came  in  a  most  unexpected  form,  however,  for 
Mrs.  Grant  burst  out  laughing,  and  the  two  boys, 
Johnny  and  Joe,  rolled  off  the  piazza  in  convulsions 
of  merriment. 

Much  disgusted  at  this  unseemly  demonstration, 
I  demanded  the  cause  of  it,  and  involuntarily  joined 
in  the  general  shout  when  Mrs.  Grant  demolished 
my  ghost  by  informing  me  that  Bezee  Tucker  lived, 
died  in,  and  haunted  the  tumble-down  house  at  the 
other  end  of  the  lane. 

"Then  who  or  what  made  those  mysterious 
noises?"  I  asked,  relieved  but  rather  nettled  at 
the  downfall  of  my  romance. 

"My  brother  Seth,"  replied  Mrs.  Grant,  still 
laughing.  "I  thought  you  might  be  afraid  to  be 
there  all  alone,  so  he  slipped  into  the  bedroom,  and 
I  forgot  to  tell  you.  He 's  a  powerful  snorer,  and 


180  AUNT  JO'S  SCRAP-BAG. 

that's  one  of  the  awful  sounds.  The  other  was  the 
dripping  of  salt  water ;  for  you  wanted  some,  and 
the  girl  got  it  in  a  leaky  pail.  Seth  wiped  up  the 
«lops  when  he  canie  out  early  in  the  morning." 

I  said  nothing  about  the  keyhole  view  of  the 
harmless  razor,  but,  feeling  that  I  did  deserve  some 
credit  for  my  heroic  reception  of  the  burglar,  I 
mildly  asked  if  it  was  the  custom  in  York  for  men 
as  well  as  turkeys  to  roost  in  trees. 

An  explosion  from  the  boys  extinguished  my  last 
hope  of  glory,  for  as  soon  as  he  could  speak  Joe 
answered,  unable  to  resist  the  joke,  though  telling 
it  betrayed  his  own  transgressions. 

"  Johnny  planned  to  be  up  awful  early,  and  pick 
the  last  cherries  off  that  tree.  I  wanted  to  get 
ahead  of  him,  so  I  sneaked  down  before  light  to 
humbug  him,  for  I  was  going  a-fishing,  and  we  have 
to  be  off  by  four." 

"  Did  you  get  your  cherries  ?  "  I  asked,  bound  to 
have  some  of  the  laugh  on  my  side. 

"  Guess  I  didn  *t,"  grumbled  Joe,  rubbing  his 
knees,  while  Johnny  added,  with  an  exulting 
chuckle,  — 


CLAMS.  181 

"  He  got  a  horrid  scare  and  a  right  good  scraping, 
for  he  didn't  know  any  one  was  down  there. 
Couldn't  go  fishing  either,  he  was  so  lame,  and  I 
had  the  cherries  after  all.  Served  him  right,  didn  't 
it?" 

No  answer  was  necessary,  for  the  two  lads  in 
dulged  in  a  friendly  scuffle  among  the:  hay-cocks, 
while  Mrs.  Grant  went  off  to  repeat  the  tale  in  the 
kitchen,  whence  the  sound  of  a  muffled  roar  soon 
assured  me  that  Seth  was  enjoying  the  joke  as  well 
as  the  rest  of  us. 


xn. 

KITTY'S   CATTLE  SHOW. 

T  ITTLE  Kitty  was  an  orphan,  and  she  lived  in 
the  poor-house,  where  she  ran  errands,  tended 
babies,  and  was  everybody's  servant.  A  droll, 
happy-hearted  child,  who  did  her  best  to  be  good, 
and  was  never  tired  of  hoping  that  something  pleas 
ant  would  happen. 

She  had  often  heard  of  Cattle  Shows,  but  had 
never  been  to  one,  though  she  lived  in  a  town  where 
there  was  one  every  year. 

As  October  came,  and  people  began  to  get  ready 
for  the  show,  Kitty  was  seized  with  a  strong  desire 
to  go,  and  asked  endless  questions  about  it  of  old 
Sam,  who  lived  in  the  house. 

"  Did  you  say  anybody  could  go  in  for  nothing  if 
they  took  something  to  show?"  she  asked. 

"  Yes ;  and  them  that  has  the  best  fruit,  or  cows, 
or  butter,  or  whatever  it  is,  they  gets  a  premium," 
said  Sam,  chopping  away. 


KITTY'S  CATTLE  SHOW.  183 

"  What 's  a  primraynurn  ?  "  asked  Kitty,  forgetting 
to  pick  up  chips,  in  her  interest. 

"  It 's  money ;  some  gets  a  lot,  and  some  only  a 
dollar,  or  so." 

"  I  wish  I  had  something  nice  to  show,  but  I  don't 
own  anything  but  puss,"  and  the  little  girl  stroked 
the  plump,  white  kitten  that  was  frisking  all  over 
her. 

"  Better  send  her;  she 's  pretty  enough  to  fetch  a 
prize  anywheres,"  said  Sam,  who  was  fond  of  both 
Kittys. 

"Do  they  have  cats  there?"  asked  the  child,  so 
berly. 

"  Ought  to,  if  they  don't,  for,  if  cats  aint  cattle,  I 
don't  see  what  they  be,"  and  old  Sam  laughed,  as  if 
he  had  made  a  joke. 

"  I  mean  to  take  her  and  see  the  show,  any  way, 
for  that  will  be  splendid,  even  if  she  don't  get  any 
money  !  O,  puss,  will  you  go,  and  behave  well,  and 
get  a  primrnynum  for  me,  so  I  can  buy  a  book  of 
stories?"  cried  Kitty,  upsetting  her  basket  in  her 
sudden  skip  at  the  fine  plan. 

Puss  turned  a  somersault,  raced  after  a  chicken, 


184  AUNT  JO'S  SCRAP-BAG. 

and  then  rushed  up  her  mistress'  back,  and,  perch 
ing  demurely  on  her  shoulder,  peeped  into  her  face, 
as  if  asking  if  pranks  like  these  wouldn't  win  a  prize 
anywhere. 

"  You  are  going  to  take  Mr.  Green's  hens  for  him  ; 
can't  I  go  with  you?  I  won't  be  any  trouble,  and'I 
do  so  want  to  see  the  fun,"  added  Kitty,  after  think 
ing  over  her  plan  a  few  minutes. 

Now,  Sam  meant  to  take  her,  but  had  not  told  her 
so  yet,  and  now,  being  a  waggish  old  fellow,  he 
thought  he  would  let  her  take  her  cat,  for  the  joke  of 
it,  so  he  said  soberly,  — 

"  Yes,  I  '11  tuck  you  in  somewheres,  and  you  'd  bet 
ter  put  puss  into  the  blackbird's  old  cage,  else  she 
will  get  scared,  and  run  away.  You  stand  it  among 
the  chicken-coops,  and  folks  will  admire  her,  I  aint 
a  doubt." 

Innocent  little  Kitty  was  in  raptures  at  the  pros 
pect,  though  the  people  in  the  house  laughed  at  her. 
But  she  firmly  believed  it  was  all  right,  and  made 
her  preparations  with  solemn  care. 

The  old  cage  was  scrubbed  till  the  wires  shone, 
then  she  trimmed  it  up  with  evergreen,  and  put  a 


KITTY'S   CATTLE  SHOW.  185 

*. 

bed  of  scarlet  leaves  for  snowy  puss  to  lie  on.  Puss 
was  washed,  and  combed,  and  decked  with  a  blue  bow 
on  the  grand  day,  and,  when  she  had  been  persuaded 
to  enter  her  pretty  prison,  the  effect  was  charming. 

A  happier  little  lass  was  seldom  seen  than  Kitty 
when,  dressed  in  her  clean,  blue  check  frock,  and 
the  old  hat,  with  a  faded  ribbon,  she  rode  away 
with  Sam ;  and  behind,  among  the  hen-coops,  was 
Miss  Puss,  much  excited  by  the  clucking  and  flut 
tering  of  her  fellow-travellers. 

When  the  show  grounds  were  reached,  Kitty 
thought  the  bustle  and  the  noise  quite  as  interesting 
as  the  cattle ;  and  when,  after  putting  his  poultry  in 
its  place,  Sam  led  her  up  into  the  great  hall  where 
the  fruit  and  flowers  were,  she  began  to  imagine 
that  the  fairy  tales  were  coming  true. 

While  she  stood  staring  at  some  very  astonishing 
worsted-work  pictures,  a  lady,  who  was  arranging 
fruit  near  by,  upset  a  basket  of  fine  peaches,  and 
they  rolled  away  under  tables  and  chairs. 

"  I  '11  pick  'em  up,  ma'am,"  cried  Kitty,  who  loved  to 
be  useful;  and  down  she  went  on  her  hands  and 
knees,  and  carefully  picked  up  every  runaway. 


186  AUNT  JO'S  SCRAP-BAG. 

* 

c<  What  is  your  name,  my  obliging  little  girl  ? " 
asked  the  lady,  as  she  brushed  up  the  last  yellow 
peach. 

"Kitty;  and  I  live  at  the  poor-house;  and  I 
never  saw  a  Cattle  Show  before,  'cause  I  didn  't 
have  any  thing  to  bring,"  said  the  child,  feeling  as 
important  with  her  cat  as  a  whole  agricultural 
society. 

"  What  did  you  bring,  — patchwork  ?  " 

"O,  no,  ma'am,  a  lovely  cat,  and  she  is  down 
stairs  with  the  hens,  —  all  white,  with  blue  eyes  and 
a  blue  bow,"  cried  Kitty. 

"  I  want  to  see  her,"  said  a  little  girl,  popping  her 
head  up  from  behind  the  table,  where  she  had  bash 
fully  hidden  from  the  stranger. 

The  lady  consented,  and  the  children  went  away 
together. 

While  they  were  gone,  Sam  came  to  find  his  little 
friend,  and  the  kind  lady,  amused  at  the  cat  story, 
asked  about  the  child. 

"  She  aint  no  friends  but  me  and  the  kitten,  so  I 
thought  I  'd  give  the  poor  little  soul  a  bit  of  pleasure. 
The  quarter  I  '11  get  for  fetching  Green's  hens  will 


KITTY'S  CATTLE  SHOW.  187 

get  Kitty  some  dinner,  and  a  book  maybe,  or  some 
thing  to  remember  Cattle  Show  by.  Shouldn't 
wonder  if  I  earned  a  trifle  more  doing  chores  round 
to-day ;  if  so,  I  shall  give  it  to  her  for  a  premium, 
'cause  I  fetched  the  cat  for  fun,  and  wouldn't  like  to 
disappoint  the  child." 

As  Sam  laughed,  and  rubbed  his  rough  hands 
over  the  joke  of  surprising  Kitty,  the  lady  looked  at 
his  kind  old  face,  and  resolved  to  give  him  a  pleas 
ure,  too,  and  of  the  sort  he  liked. 

She  was  rich  and  generous,  and,  when  her  little 
girl  came  back,  begging  her  to  buy  the  lovely  kitten, 
she  said  she  would,  and  put  .five  dollars  into  Sam's 
hands,  telling  him  that  was  Kitty's  premium,  to  be 
used  in  buying  clothes  and  comforts  for  the  mother 
less  child. 

Kitty  was  quite  willing  to  sell  puss,  for  five  dollars 
seemed  a  splendid  fortune  to  her.  Such  a  happy 
day  as  that  was,  for  she  saw  everything,  had  a  good 
dinner, bought  "Babes  in  th.e  Wood"  of  a  peddler, 
and,  best  of  all,  made  friends. 

Miss  Puss  was  brought  up  by  her  new  mistress, 
and  put  on  a  table  among  the  flowers,  where  the 


18b  AUNT  JO'S  SCRAP-BAG. 

pretty  cage  and  the  plump,  tricksy  kitten  attracted 
much  attention,  for  the  story  was  told,  and  the  little 
giiTs  droll  contribution  much  laughed  over. 

But  the  poor-house  people  didn't  laugh,  for  they 
were  so  surprised  and  delighted  at  this  unexpected 
success  that  they  were  never  tired  of  talking  about 
Kitty's  Cattle  Show. 


xm. 

WHAT  BECOMES  OF  THE  PINS. 

IV  yTlSS  Ellen  was  making  a  new  pincushion,  and 
a  very  pretty  one  it  promised  to  be,  for  she 
had  much  taste,  and  spent  half  her  time  embroid 
ering  chair-covers,  crocheting  tidies,  and  all  sorts 
of  dainty  trifles.  Her  room  was^  full  of  them ;  and 
she  often  declared  that  she  did  wish  some  one  would 
invent  a  new  sort  of  fancy-work,  since  she  had  tried 
all  the  old  kinds  till  she  was  tired  of  them.  Paint 
ing  china,  carving  wood,  button-holing  butterflies 
and  daisies  onto  Turkish  towelling,  and  making  pea 
cock-feather  trimming,  amused  her  for  a  time  ;  but  as 
she  was  not  very  successful  she  soon  gave  up  trying 
these  branches,  and  wondered  if  she  would  not  take 
a  little  plain  sewing  for  a  change. 

The  old  cushion  stood  on  her  table  beside  the  new 
one ;  which  was  ready  for  its  trimming  of  lace  and 
ribbon.  A  row  of  delicate  new  pins  also  lay  wait- 


190  AUNT  JO'S  SCRAP-BAG. 

ing  to  adorn  the  red  satin  mound,  and  in  the  old 
blue  one  still  remained  several  pins  that  had  evi 
dently  seen  hard  service. 

Miss  Ellen  was  putting  a  dozen  needles  into  her 
book,  having  just  picked  them  out  of  the  old  cush 
ion,  and,  as  she  quilted  them  through  the  flannel 
leaves,  she  said  half  aloud,  — 

"It  is  very  evident  where  the  needles  go,  but 
I  really  do  wish  I  knew  what  becomes  of  the 
pins." 

"  I  can  tell  you,"  answered  a  small,  sharp  voice, 
as  a  long  brass  pin  tried  to  straighten  itself  up  in 
the  middle  of  a  faded  blue  cornflower,  evidently 
prepared  to  address  the  meeting. 

Miss  Ellen  stared  much  surprised,  for  she  had 
used  this  big  pin  a  good  deal  lately,  but  never  heard 
it  speak  before.  As  she  looked  at  it  she  saw  for  the 
first  time  that  its  head  had  a  tiny  face,  with  silvery 
hair,  two  merry  eyes,  and  a  wee  mouth  out  of  which 
came  the  metallic  little  voice  that  pierced  her  ear, 
small  as  it  was. 

"  Dear  me  ! "  she  said ;  then  added  politely,  "  if 
you  can  tell  I  should  be  very  happy  to  hear,  for 


WHAT  BECOMES  OF  THE  PINS.        191 

it  has  long  been  a  great  mystery,  and  no  one  could 
explain  it." 

The  old  pin  tried  to  sit  erect,  and  the  merry  eye 
twinkled  as  it  went  on  like  a  garrulous  creature, 
glad  to  talk  after  long  silence  :  — 

uMen  make  many  wonderful  discoveries,  my  dear, 
but  they  have  never  found  that  out,  and  never  will, 
because  we  belong  to  women,  and  only  a  feminine 
ear  can  hear  us,  a  feminine  mind  understand  our 
mission,  or  sympathize  with  our  trials,  experiences, 
and  triumphs.  For  we  have  all  these  as  well  as  hu 
man  beings,  and  there  really  is  not  much  difference 
between  us  when  we  come  to  look  into  the  matter." 

This  was  such  a  curious  statement  that  Miss  Ellen 
forgot  her  work  to  listen  intently,  and  all  the  needles 
fixed  their  eyes  on  the  audacious  pin.  Not  a  whit 
abashed  it  thus  continued  :  — 

"  I  am  called  { Granny'  among  my  friends,  because  I 
have  had  a  long  and  eventful  life.  I  am  hearty  and 
well,  however,  in  spite  of  this  crick  in  my  back,  and 
hope  to  serve  you  a  good  while  yet,  for  you  seem  to 
appreciate  me,  stout  and  ordinary  as  I  look. 

"  Yes,  my  dear,  pins  and  people  are  alike,  and  that 


192  AUNT  JO'S  SCRAP-BAG. 

rusty  darning-needle  need  not  stare  so  rudely,  for  I 
shall  prove  what  I  say.  We  are  divided  into  classes 
by  birth  and  constitution,  and  each  can  do  much  in 
its  own  sphere.  I  am  a  shawl  pin,  and  it  would 
be  foolish  in  me  to  aspire  to  the  duties  of  those 
dainty  lace  pins  made  to  fasten  a  collar.  I  am  con 
tented  with  my  lot,  however,  and,  being  of  a  strong 
make  and  enterprising  spirit,  have  had  many  adven 
tures,  some  perils,  and  great  satisfactions  since  I 
left  the  factory  long  ago.  I  well  remember  how 
eagerly  I  looked  about  me  when  the  paper  in  which 
I  lived,  with  some  hundreds  of  relations,  was  hung 
up  in  a  shop  window,  to  display  our  glittering  ranks 
and  tempt  people  to  buy.  At  last  a  purchaser  came, 
a  dashing  young  lady  who  bought  us  with  several 
other  fancy  articles,  and  carried  us  away  in  a  smart 
little  bag,  humming  and  talking  to  herself,  in  what  I 
thought  a  very  curious  way. 

"  When  we  were  taken  out  I  was  all  in  a  flutter 
to  see  where  I  was  and  what  would  happen  next. 
There  were  so  many  of  us,  I  could  hardly  hope  to  go 
first,  for  I  was  in  the  third  row,  and  most  people 
take  us  in  order.  But  Cora  was  a  hasty,  careless 


WHAT  BECOMES   OF  THE  PINS.       193 

soul,  and  pulled  us  out  at  random,  so  I  soon  found 
myself  stuck  up  in  a  big  untidy  cushion,  with  every 
sort  of  pin  you  can  imagine.  Such  a  gay  and 
giddy  set  I  never  saw,  and  really,  my  dear,  their 
ways  and  conversation  were  quite  startling  to 
an  ignorant  young  thing  like  me.  Pearl,  coral, 
diamond,  jet,  gold,  and  silver  heads,  were  all  around 
me  as  well  as  vulgar  brass  knobs,  jaunty  black  pins, 
good  for  nothing  as  they  snap  at  the  least  strain, 
and  my  own  relations,  looking  eminently  neat  and 
respectable  among  this  theatrical  rabble.  For  I 
will  not  disguise  from  you,  Miss  Ellen,  that  my  first 
mistress  was  an  actress,  and  my  life  a  very  gay  one 
at  the  beginning.  Merry,  kind,  and  careless  was  the 
pretty  Cora,  and  I  am  bound  to  confess  I  ei. joyed 
myself  immensely,  for  I  was  taken  by  chance  with 
half  a  dozen  friends  to  pin  up  the  folds  of  her  velvet 
train  and  mantle,  in  a  fairy  spectacle  where  she 
played  the  queen.  It  was  very  splendid,  and,  snugly 
settled  among  the  soft  folds,  I  saw  it  all,  and  prob 
ably  felt  that  I  too  had  my  part ;  humble  as  it  was, 
it  was  faithfully  performed,  and  I  never  once  de 
serted  my  post  for  six  weeks. 
13 


194  AUNT  JO'S  SCRAP-BAG. 

"Among  the  elves  who  went  flitting  about  with 
silvery  wings  and  spangled  robes  was  one  dear  child 
who  was  the  good  genius  of  the  queen,  and  was 
always  fluttering  near  her,  so  I  could  not  help 
seeing  and  loving  the  dear  creature.  She- danced 
and  sung,  came  out  of  flowers,  swung  down  from 
trees,  popped  up  from  the  lower  regions,  and  finally, 
when  all  the  queen's  troubles  are  over,  flew  away  on 
a  golden  cloud,  smiling  through  a  blaze  of  red  light, 
and  dropping  roses  as  she  vanished. 

"  When  the  play  ended,  I  used  to  see  her  in  an  old 
dress,  a  thin  shawl,  and  shabby  hat,  go  limping 
home  with  a  tired-looking  woman  who  dressed  the 
girls. 

"  I  thought  a  good  deal  about  '  Little  Viola/  as 
they  called  her,  —  though  her  real  name  was  Sally,  I 
believe,  —  and  one  dreadful  night  I  played  a  heroic 
part,  and  thrill  now  when  I  remember  it." 

"  Go  on,  please,  I  long  to  know,"  said  Miss  Ellen, 
dropping  the  needle-book  into  her  lap,  and  leaning 
forward  to  listen  better. 

"  One  evening  the  theatre  took  fire,"  continued 
the  old  pin  impressively.  "  I  don't  know  how,  but 


WHA  T  BECOMES   OF  THE  PINS.       195 

al.  of  a  sudden  there  was  a  great  uproar,  smoke, 
flames,  water  pouring,  people  running  frantically 
about,  and  such  a  wild  panic  I  lost  my  small  wits 
for  a  time.  When  I  recovered  them,  I  found  Cora 
was  leaning  from  a  high  window,  with  something 
wrapped  closely  in  the  velvet  mantle  that  I  pinned 
upon  the  left  shoulder  just  under  a  paste  buckle 
that  only  sparkled  while  Tdid  all  the  work. 

"A  little  golden  head  lay  close  by  me,  and  a 
white  face  looked  up  from  the  crimson  folds,  but 
the  sweet  eyes  were  shut,  the  lips  were  drawn  with 
pain,  a  horrible  odor  of  burnt  clothes  came  up  to  me, 
and  the  small  hand  that  clutched  Cora's  neck  was 
all  blistered  with  the  cruel  fire  which  would  have 
devoured  the  child  if  my  brave  mistress  had  not 
rescued  her  at  the  risk  of  her  own  life.  She  could 
have  escaped  at  first,  but  she  heard  Sally  cry  to  her 
through  the  blinding  smoke,  and  went  to  find  and 
rescue  her.  I  dimly  recalled  that,  and  pressed  closer 
to  the  white  shoulder,  full  of  pride  and  affection  for 
the  kind  soul  whom  I  had  often  thought  too  gay  and 
giddy  to  care  for  anything  but  pleasure. 

she  was  calling  to  the  people  in  the  street 


196  AUNT  JO'S  SCRAP-BAG. 

to  put  up  a  ladder,  and,  as  she  leaned  and  called,  I 
could  see  the  crowds  far  down,  the  smoke  and  flame 
bursting  out  below,  and  hear  the  hiss  of  water  as  it 
fell  upon  the  blazing  walls.  It  was  a  most  exciting 
moment,  as  we  hung  there,  watching  the  gallant  men 
fix  the  long  ladder,  and  one  come  climbing  up  till 
we  could  see  his  brave  face,  and  hear  him  shout 
cheerily,  — 

"  '  Swing  from  the  window-sill,  I  '11  catch  you.' 

"  But  Cora  answered,  as  she  showed  the  little 
yellow  head  that  shone  in  the  red  glare,  — 

"  *  No,  save  the  child  first ! ' 

" l  Drop  her  then,  and  be  quick  :  it 's  hot  work 
here,'  and  the  man  held  up  his  arms  with  a  laugh,  as 
the  flames  licked  out  below  as  if  to  eat  away  the 
frail  support  he  stood  on. 

"  All  in  one  breathless  moment,  Cora  had  torn  off 
the  mantle,  wrapped  the  child  in  it,  bound  her  girdle 
about  it,  and  finding  the  gaudy  band  would  not  tie, 
caught  out  the  first  pin  that  came  to  hand,  and  fas 
tened  it.  /was  that  pin  ;  and  I  felt  that  the  child's 
life  almost  depended  upon  me,  for  as  the  precious 
bun  lie  dropped  into  the  man's  hands  he  caught  it  by 


WHAT  BECOMES   OF  THE  PINS,       197 

the  cloak,  and,  putting  it  on  his  shoulder,  went 
swiftly  down.  The  belt  strained,  the  velvet  tore,  I 
felt  myself  bending  with  the  weight,  and  expected 
every  minute  to  see  the  child  slip,  and  fall  on  the  stones 
below.  But  I  held  fast,  I  drove  my  point  deeply  in, 
I  twisted  myself  round  so  that  even  the  bend  should 
be  a  help,  and  I  called  to  the  man, '  Hold  tight,  I  'm 
trying  my  best,  but  what  can  one  pin  do  ! ' 

"  Of  course  he  did  not  hear  me,  but  I  really 
believe  my  desperate  efforts  were  of  some  use  ;  for, 
we  got  safely  down,  and  were  hurried  away  to  the 
hospital  where  other  poor  souls  had  already  gone. 

"The  good  nurse  who  undid  that  scorched, 
drenched,  and  pitiful  bundle,  stuck  me  in  her  shawl, 
and  resting  there,  I  saw7  the  poor  child  laid  in  a  little 
bed,  her  burns  skilfully  cared  for,  and  her  scattered! 
senses  restored  by  tender  words  and  motherly  kisses. 
How  glad  I  was  to  hear  that  she  would  live,  and  still 
more  rejoiced  to  learn  next  day  that  Cora  was  near 
by,  badly  burned  but  not  in  danger,  and  anxious  to 
see  the  child  she  had  saved. 

"  Nurse  Benson  took  the  little  thing  in  her  arms 
tc  visit  rny  poor  mistress,  and  I  went  too.  But  alas  ! 


198  AUXT  JO'S  SCRAP-BAG. 

I  never  should  have  known  the  gay  and  blooming 
girl  of  the  day  before.  Her  face  and  hands  were 
terribly  burnt,  and  she  would  never  again  be  able  to 
play  the  lovely  queen  on  any  stage,  for  her  fresh 
beauty  was  forever  lost. 

"  Hard  days  for  all  of  us ;  I  took  my  share  of 
trouble  with  the  rest,  though  I  only  suffered  from 
the  strain  to  my  back.  Nurse  Benson  straightened 
me  out  and  kept  me  in  use,  so  I  saw  much  of  pain 
and  patience  in  that  great  house,  because  the  little 
gray  shawl  which  I  fastened  covered  a  tender  heart, 
and  on  that  motherly  bosom  many  aching  heads 
found  rest,  many  weary  creatures  breathed  their 
last,  and  more  than  one  unhappy  soul  learned  to 
submit. 

'  "  Among  these  last  was  poor  Cora,  for  it  was  very 
hard  to  give  up  beauty,  health,  and  the  life  she  loved, 
so  SOOD.  Yet  I  do  not  think  she  ever  regretted  the 
sacrifice  when  she  saw  the  grateful  child  well  and 
safe,  for  little  Sally  was  her  best  comforter,  and 
through  the  long  weeks  she  lay  there  half  blind  and 
suffering,  the  daily  visit  of  the  little  one  cheered 
her  more  than  anything  else.  The  poor  mother 


WHAT  BECOMES   OF  THE  PINS.       199 

was  lost  in  the  great  fire,  and  Cora  adopted  the 
orphan  as  her  own,  and  surely  she  had  a  right  to 
what  she  had  so  dearly  bought. 

"  They  went  away  together  at  last,  one  quite  well 
and  strong  again,  the  other  a  sad  wreck,  but  a 
better  woman  for  the  trial,  I  think,  and  she  carried 
comfort  with  her.  Poor  little  Sally  led  her,  a  faith 
ful  guide,  a  tender  nurse,  a  devoted  daughter  to  her 
all  her  life." 

Here  the  pin  paused,  out  of  breath,  and  Miss 
Ellen  shook  a  bright  drop  off  the  lace  that  lay  in  her 
lap,  as  she  said  in  a  tone  of  real  interest,  — 

"  What  happened  next  ?  How  long  did  you  stay 
in  the  hospital  ?  " 

"I  stayed  a  year,  for  Nurse  used  me  'one  day  to 
pin  up  a  print  at  the  foot  of  a  poor  man's  bed,  and 
he  took  such  comfort  in  it  they  let  it  hang  till  he 
died.  A  lovely  picture  of  a  person  who  held  out 
his  arms  to  all  the  suffering  and  oppressed,  and  they 
gathered  about  him  to  be  comforted  and  saved. 
The  forlorn  soul  had  led  a  wicked  life,  and  now  lay 
dying  a  long  and  painful  death,  but  something  in 
that  divine  face  taught  him  to  hope  for  pardon,  and 


200  AUNT  JO'S  SCRAP-BAG. 

when  no  eye  but  mine  saw  him  in  the  lonely  nights 
he  wept,  and  prayed,  and  struggled  to  repent.  I 
think  he  was  forgiven,  for  when  at  last  he  lay  dead 
a  smile  was  on  his  lips  that  never  had  been  there 
before.  Then  the  print  was  taken  down,  and  I  was 
used  to  pin  up  a  bundle  of  red  flannel  by  one  of  the 
women,  and  for  months  I  lay  in  a  dark  chest,  medi 
tating  on  the  lessons  I  had  already  learned. 

"  Suddenly  I  was  taken  out,  and  when  a  queer 
round  pin-ball  of  the  flannel  had  been  made  by  a 
nice  old  lady,  I  was  stuck  in  it  with  a  party  of  fat 
needles,  and  a  few  of  my  own  race,  all  with  stout 
bodies  and  big  heads. 

" *  The  dear  boy  is  clumsy  with  his  fingers,  and 
needs  strong  things  to  use,'  said  the  old  lady,  as  she 
held  the  tomato  cushion  in  both  hands  and  kissed  it 
before  she  put  it  into  a  soldier's  l  comfort  bag.' 

" '  Now  I  shall  have  a  lively  time ! '  I  thought,  and 
looked  gaily  about  me,  for  I  liked  adventures,  and 
felt  that  I  was  sure  of  them  now. 

"  I  cannot  begin  to  tell  you  all  I  went  through 
with  that  boy,  for  he  was  brave  as  a  lion  and  got 
many  hard  knocks.  We  marched,  and  camped,  and 


WHAT  BECOMES   OF  THE  PINS.    ,  201 

fought,  and  suffered,  but  we  never  ran  away,  and 
when  at  last  a-Minie  ball  came  smashing  through 
the  red  cushion  (which  Dick  often  carried  in  his 
pocket  as  a  sort  of  charm  to  keep  him  safe,  for 
men  seldom  use  pins),  I  nearly  lost  my  head,  for 
the  stuffing  flew  out,  and  we  were  all  knocked  about 
in  a  dreadful  way.  The  cushion  and  the  old  wallet 
together  saved  Dick's  life,  however,  for  the  ball  did 
not  reach  his  brave  heart,  and  the  last  I  saw  of  him 
as  I  fell  out  of  the  hasty  hand  that  felt  for  a  wound 
was  a  soft  look  in  the  brave  bright  eyes,  as  he 
said  to  himself  with  a  smile,  — 

"  'Dear  old  mother  hasn't  lost  her  boy  yet,  thank 
God!' 

"  A  colored  lad  picked  me  up,  as  I  lay  shining  on 
the  grass,  and  pins  being  scarce  in  those  parts,  gave 
me  to  his  mammy,  who  kept  me  to  fasten  her  turban. 
Quite  a  new  scene  I  found,  for  in  the  old  cabin 
were  a  dozen  children  and  their  mothers  making 
ready  to  go  North.  The  men  were  all  away  fight 
ing  or  serving  the  army,  so  mammy  led  the  little 
troop,  and  they  inarched  off  one  day  following  the 
gay  turban  like  a  banner,  for  she  had  a  valiant  soul? 


202  AUXT  JO'S  SCRAP-BAG. 

and  was  bound  to  find  safety  and  freedom  for  her 
children  at  all  risks. 

"  In  my  many  wanderings  to  and  fro,  I  never  made 
so  strange  a  journey  as  that  one,  but  I  enjoyed  it,  full 
of  danger,  weariness  and  privation  as  it  was  ;  and 
every  morning  when  mammy  put  on  the  red  and 
yellow  handkerchief  I  was  proud  to  sit  aloft  on  that 
good  gray  head,  and  lead  the  forlorn  little  army  to 
ward  a  land  of  liberty. 

"  We  got  there  at  last,  and  she  fell  to  work  over 
a  washtubtoearn  the  bread  for  the  hungry  mouths. 
I  had  stood  by  her  through  all  those  weary  weeks, 
and  did  not  want  to  leave  her  now,  but  went  off 
pinning  a  paper  round  some  clean  clothes  on  a 
Saturday  morning. 

" c  Now  I  wonder  what  will  come  next ! '  I  thought, 
as  Thomas  Jefferson,  or  'Jeff,'  as  they  called  him, 
went  whistling  away  with  the  parcel  through  the 
streets. 

"  Crossing  the  park,  he  spied  a  lovely  butterfly 
which  had  strayed  in  from  the  country ;  caught  and 
pinned  it  on  his  hat  to  please  little  Dinah  when  he 
got  home.  The  pretty  creature  soon  writhed  its 


WHAT  BECOMES  OF  THE  PINS.       203 

delicate  life  away,  but  its  beauty  attracted  the  eye 
of  a  pale  girl  hurrying  along  with  a  roll  of  \vork 
under  her  arm. 

" «  Will  you  sell  me  that  ? '  she  asked,  and  Jeff 
gladly  consented,  wondering  what  she  would  do 
with  it.  So  did  I,  but  when  we  got  to  her  room  I 
soon  saw,  for  she  pinned  the  impaled  butterfly 
against  a  bit  of  blue  paper,  and  painted  it  so  well 
that  its  golden  wings  seemed  to  quiver  as  they  did 
in  life.  A  very  poor  place  it  was,  but  full  of  lovely 
things,  and  I  grew  artistic  with  just  looking  about 
me  at  the  pictures  on  the  walls,  the  flowers  blooming 
on  plates  and  panels,  birds  and  insects  kept  for  copies, 
and  gay  bits  of  stuff  used  as  back-grounds. 

"  But  more  beautiful  than  anything  she  made  was 
the  girl's  quiet,  busy  life  alone  in  the  big  city ;  for, 
she  was  hoping  to  be  an  artist,  and  worked  day  and 
night  to  compass  her  desire.  So  poor,  but  so  happy, 
I  used  to  wonder  why  no  one  helped  her  and  kept 
her  from  such  hard,  yet  patient,  waiting.  But  no  one 
did,  and  I  could  watch  her  toiling  away  as  I  held 
the  butterfly  against  the  wall,  feeling  as  if  it  was  a 
symbol  of  herself,  beating  her  delicate  wings  in  that 


204  A  UNT  JO  'S   SCRA  P-BA  G. 

close  place  till  her  heart  was  broken,  by  the  cruel  fate 
that  held  her  there  when  she  should  have  been  out  in 
the  free  sunshine.  But  she  found  a  good  customer 
for  her  pretty  work,  in  a  rich  lady  who  had  nothing 
to  do  but  amuse  herself,  and  spent  much  time  and 
money  in  fancy-work. 

"  I  know  all  about  it ;  for,  one  day  an  order  came 
from  the  great  store  where  her  designs  were  often 
bought,  and  she  was  very  happy  painting  some 
purple  pansies  upon  velvet,  and  she  copied  her 
yellow  butterfly  to  float  above  them. 

"  The  poor  insect  was  very  dry,  and  crumbled  at  a 
touch,  so  my  task  there  was  done,  and  as  my  mistress 
rolled  up  the  packet,  she  took  me  to  fasten  it  securely, 
singing  as  she  did  so,  for  every  penny  was  precious. 

"  We  all  went  together  to  the  rich  lady,  and  she 
embroidered  the  flowers  on  a  screen  very  like  that 
one  yonder.  I  thought  she  would  throw  me  away, 
I  was  so  battered  now,  but  she  took  a  fancy  to  use 
me  in  various  ways  about  her  canvas  work,  and  I 
lived  with  her  all  winter.  A  kind  lady,  my  dear, 
but  I  often  wished  I  could  suggest  to  her  better  ways 
of  spending  her  life  than  everlasting  fancy-work. 


WHAT  BECOMES   OF  THE  PINS.       205 

She  never  seemed  to  see  the  wants  of  those  about 
her,  never  lent  an  ear  to  the  poor,  or  found  delight 
in  giving  of  her  abundance  to  those  who  had  little, 
to  brighten  their  lives  ;  but  sighed  because  she  had 
nothing  to  do  when  the  world  was  full  of  work,  and 
she  blessed  with  so  many  good  gifts  to  use  and  to 
enjoy.  I  hope  she  will  see  her  mistake  some  day, 
and  not  waste  all  her  life  on  trifles,  else  she  will  re 
gret  it  sadly  by  and  by." 

Here  the  pin  paused  with  a  keen  glance  at  Miss 
Ellen,  who  had  suddenly  begun  to  sew  with  a  bright 
color  in  her  cheeks,  for  the  purple  pansies  were  on  the 
screen  that  stood  before  her  fire-place,  and  she  recog 
nized  the  portrait  of  herself  in  that  last  description. 
But  she  did  not  fancy  being  lectured  Jby  a  pin,  so 
she  asked  with  a  smile  as  she  plaited  up  her  lace,  — 

"  That  is  all  very  interesting,  but  you  have  not 
yet  told  me  what  becomes  of  the  pins,  Granny." 

"  Pins,  like  people,  shape  their  own  lives,  in  a 
great  measure,  my  dear,  and  go  to  their  reward 
when  they  are  used  up.  The  good  ones  sink  into 
the  earth  and  turn  to  silver,  to  come  forth  again  in 
a  new  and  precious  form.  The  bad  ones  crumble 
away  tc  nothing  in  cracks  and  dust  heaps,  with  no 


206  AUNT  JO'S  SCRAP-BAG. 

hope  of  salvation,  unless  some  human  hand  lifts 
them  up  and  gives  them  a  chance  to  try  again. 
Some  are  lazy,  and  slip  out  of  sight  to  escape  ser 
vice,  some  are  too  sharp,  and  prick  and  scratch 
wherever  they  are.  Others  are  poor,  weak  things, 
who  bend  up  and  lose  their  heads  as  soon  as  they 
are  used.  Some  obtrude  themselves  on  all  occasions, 
and  some  are  never  to  be  found  in  times  of  need. 
All  have  the  choice  to  wear  out  or  to  rust  out.  I 
chose  the  former,  and  have  had  a  useful,  happy  life 
so  far.  I'm  not  as  straight  as  I  once  was,  but  I  'm 
bright  still,  my  point  is  sharp,  my  head  firm,  and 
age  has  not  weakened  me  much,  I  hope,  but  made 
me  wiser,  better,  and  more  contented  to  do  my  duty 
wherever  I  am,  than  when  I  left  my  native  paper 
long  ago."  .  " 

Before  Miss  Ellen  could  express  her  respect  for 
the  worthy  old  pin,  a  dismal  groan  was  heard  from 
the  blue  cushion,  and  a  small  voice  croaked  aloud, — 

"  Alas,  alas,  I  chose  to  rust  out,  and  here  I  am,  a 
miserable,  worthless  thing,  whom  no  one  can  use  or 
care  for.  Lift  the  ruffle,  and  behold  a  sad  contrast 
to  the  faithful,  honest,  happy  Granny,  who  has  told 
us  such  a  varied  tale." 


WHAT  BECOMES   OF   THE  PINS.       207 

"Bless  me,  what  possesses  everything  to-day!" 
exclaimed  Miss  Ellen,  looking  under  the  frill  of  the 
old  cushion  to  see  who  was  speaking  now.  There  to 
be  sure  she  found  a  pin  hidden  away,  and  so  rusty  that 
she  could  hardly  pull  it  out.  But  it  came  creaking 
forth  at  the  third  tug,  and  when  it  was  set  up  beside 
Granny,  she  cried  out  in  her  cheery  way,  — 

"  Try  Dr.  Emery,  he  can  cure  most  cases  of  rust, 
and  it  is  never  too  late  to  mend,  neighbor." 

"  Too  late  for  me ! "  sighed  the  new  comer. 
"  The  rust  of  idleness  has  eaten  into  my  vitals  while 
I  lay  in  my  silken  bed,  and  my  chance  is  gone  for 
ever.  I  was  bright,  and  strong,  and  sharp  once, 
but  I  feared  work  and  worry,  and  I  hid,  growing 
duller,  dimmer,  and  more  useless  every  day.  I  am 
good  for  nothing,  throw  me  away,  and  let  the  black 
pins  mourn  for  a  wasted  life." 

"  No,"  said  Miss  Ellen,  "  you  are  not  useless,  for 
you  two  shall  sit  together  in  my  new  cushion,  a 
warning  to  me,  as  well  as  to  the  other  pins,  to  choose 
the  right  way  in  time,  and  wear  out  with  doing  our 
duty,  rather  than  rust  out  as  so  many  do.  Thank 
you,  Granny,  for  your  little  lecture,  I  will  not  forget 
it,  but  go  at  once  and  find  that  poor  girl,  and 


208  AUNT  JO'S  SCRAP-BAG. 

help  her'  all  I  can.  Rest  here,  you  good  old 
soul,  and  teach  these  little  things  to  follow  your 
example." 

As  she  spoke,  Miss  Ellen  set  the  two  pins  in  the 
middle  of  the  red  satin  cushion,  stuck  the  smaller 
pins  round  them,  and  hastened  to  put  on  her  shawl 
lest  something  should  prevent  her  from  going. 

"  Take  me  with  you ;    I  'm  not   tired,  I  love  to 

• 

work  !  use  me,  dear  mistress,  and  let  me  help  in  the 
good  work ! "  cried  Granny,  with  a  lively  skip  that 
sent  her  out  upon  the  bureau. 

So  Miss  Ellen  pinned  her  shawl  with  the  old 
pin  instead  of  the  fine  brooch  she  had  in  her  hand, 
and  they  went  gaily  away  together,  leaving  the 
rusty  one  to  bemoan  itself,  and  all  the  little  ones  to 
privately  resolve  that  they  would  not  hide  away 
from  care  and  labor,  but  take  their  share  bravely 
and  have  a  good  record  to  show  when  they  went,  at 
last  where  the  good  pins  go. 

THE    END. 


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